


End of the Day (Take Me In Your Arms)

by Horitsu_Uriel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - No One Direction, British Harry, Detective Louis, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Louis Tomlinson-centric, M/M, Moving On, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Silver Fox Louis, Student Harry, Texan Louis, mentions of mpreg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2019-10-31 11:05:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17848289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Horitsu_Uriel/pseuds/Horitsu_Uriel
Summary: "Not a fan of alcohol?""I prefer sweeter drinks, like a bourbon, but I needed something to take the edge off.""I'm sort of sweet and I can definitely help you relax.""Depends on how sweet. If I don't get any cavities or diabetes, then it's not worth my time.""And how much is your time worth?""Depends if I'm on or off the clock."Or...31-year-old Detective Tomlinson is dragged to a club and has an encounter with Harry Styles, a fresh-faced 21-year-old college student.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis is regretting going out until a whimsical boy changes his mind and warms his cold lonely heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits made on Aug 11th, 2019

# △▼LT▼△

In the shadows of blinding neon lights, my heart beats erratically in my chest as I try so desperately to enjoy myself at this moment. The heat of the sweaty animistic bodies around me and the buzzing loud music is just growing too much for my God Dang ears to handle. Abruptly, I stop my halfhearted movements and quickly brush past the smelly drunks. Muttering fleeting apologies as I make a beeline for the bar.

The second I’ve clambered onto the dance floor I knew it was a mistake. I just wanted to see if I can feel the same rush after so many years. However, the bittersweet nostalgia of my younger days fades away after a painstakingly slow thirty seconds of guys and girls grinding messily against my crotch.

After I call the bartender over, I order a whiskey neat and request a simple wooden toothpick. Needing something to take my mind off the smoldering nerves scorching my skin, I settle for something else in my mouth since no cigarette smoking is allowed. Fucking pansies and their vapes. 

Nothing beats the good ole feeling of a real cigarette or its pleasant burn.

I pout with the small piece of wood sticking out between my teeth, regretting the choice of going out with my so-called work friends. I’ve never done anything like this before or at least not since I’ve been a wild broken eighteen-year-old mustang with fake IDs, excellent fake IDs might I add. The clubs I’ve frequented in my youth were my go-to places to relax, let loose, and find a boy to take home, but most importantly it helps me forget…until it didn’t.

That... It is in the past and now, after so many years, I prefer heading straight to my house after clocking out to spend some quality time reading or catching up on piles of paperwork with off the clock overtime. On a rare occasion, when I do feel a desire for more human contact than from what I get at work, I go to a hole in the wall bar down the street. Quietly having a glass of scotch or whiskey while listening to the regulars chat idly about how the world is _going to shit_ and reminiscing on the good _ole days._

Now though my _“friends”_ are long gone and I don't know why I’m still here. 

I ain't one for crowds anymore. 

Surprising myself when I didn’t turn down the offer to get a few drinks with basically strangers who I happen to work with. And of course, we go to a trendy club for god's sake! I couldn't keep count on how many holier than thou vegan hipsters I’d seen in the past half hour.

I-Is that f-fuckin’ drink just smoke... The Hell!? 

Shaking my head at myself more than at this ridiculous place, I doubt I'll ever do something like this again because I know it was a spur of the moment decision. No matter how badly I think I miss the feeling of swaying against the bodies of strangers, a bad addiction I had to throw away long ago to mend myself in a more healthy manner, I know I will not enjoy it ever again. Or at least I can pick a place that's not trying too hard to be mainstream, indie, and ironic at the same time.

It's just plain ridiculous.

The young bartender—who thank god isn’t a trendy hipster with a dreadful beard—hands me the half-empty glass and winks as our fingers briefly touch. I nod curtly, flashing a small grin, as he blushes and looks away before waddling to attend to another patron. I chuckle and shrug, picking up the glass to eye the swirling dark liquid. 

Then those melancholy memories crawl their way from the depths of my mind to the forefront of my thoughts. I lose myself for a moment, just a moment, to them. The thorns tightening in my chest pull me back and I shake those blurry times away.

I ain't much of a drinker anymore. 

Having grown to realize that those dreadful days of dealing with the aftermaths of blackout drunken nights were not good for my health and going out was not making me forget _him_ anymore. I’ve always been close to those I care about especially my family. Helping my mom raise my many sisters and learning the ins and outs of what it means to be a man from my pops, we were an inseparable posse of sass, love, and respect. They were the ones who knew something was wrong even though I moved out of state with _him_ and they helped me recover in a more constructive way. 

I’ve not fully realized until now how desperately I needed the support especially after—

I force the lump building in my throat down and shake those thoughts away. They would do me no good and I have come so far, too far. I can’t risk another relapse. 

So I do the only thing that really works for me now. I bury these emotions deep down and lock it safely away where it doesn’t have a hold on me. Where it can’t hurt me.

Once gone, I smile with wholesome content as I recall a better memory of my father once saying: _“A whiskey a day keeps the doctor away."_ I also ain’t one to disappoint the old man or have him rolling in his grave with worry over his only son. Now I faithfully follow his old-world wisdom and I’m healthier than ever. 

At least physically so.

However, the tension in my chest and the thick musky air is starting to overload my senses. I pluck the toothpick from my mouth and down my second drink of the day in one go. I don't bat an eye at the slow sting in my throat as the alcohol sinks to the bottom of my stomach with force. I lick my lips, not really caring for the taste of oaky bitterness from the drink, and focus on the warm sensation that is slowly filling my body.

Immediately after, I can’t contain my disdain for the clearly cheap but effective alcohol and finally; I let a grimace slip through my clenching jaw as I hear someone take the stool next to me. The soft sound of weight sinking into the cushion and the squeak of turning metal somehow come through over the loud music and into my ears. Not a moment later, I can feel eyes burning a hole on the side of my face but I keep my own gaze down on the empty glass in my hands and continue to fiddle with the toothpick that is back in between my pearly whites.

The music dies down and people are shifting off the dance floor to take to the tables and booths that are scattered around the club. 

Eyeing the shadows moving about, I sigh deeply with regret as I set the glass on the bar counter and lean forward on crossed arms. I’ve grown tired of the loud noise and the general unpleasantness of this evening. So I huff and pull out my wallet, laying a few bills under the glass cup and making sure to leave a generous tip for the blushing Bartender. He is cute and I’m a sucker for pretty boys.

As I’m about to jump out of my seat with bubbling eagerness to make my way out and cozy up under my sheets, a rather slow and deep voice stills my movements.

“Not a fan of alcohol?” The man sitting next to me asks.

I ain’t one for small talk. 

If it wasn't for the slight buzz from the drink hitting me at this very moment or this guy's thick English accent, I probably would’ve given a simple curt nod as a reply and left. Instead, I find my leather jacket rather constricting and clammy against my skin. I shrug it off and lay the article of clothing over my lap, “I prefer sweeter drinks, like a bourbon, but I need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“I’m sort of sweet and I can definitely help you relax.”

I chuckle at the dorky—somewhat endearing—attempt at flirting and turn to sass that I ain’t looking for anything at the moment but it seems I can't find the words as my eyes land on the man. Or should I say, boy? If I go by the toothy dimpled smile and the long youthful-looking mop of curls that are slightly pulled back by a green bandanna? 

I can’t quite make out any definitive features since I’ve forgotten my glasses in my car and the dim lighting by the bar is not helping one bit. However, even a borderline blind man like myself can instantly tell that this guy is insanely attractive. I try to subtly take in the boy’s general being and I’m finding myself relaxing back into my seat. 

Hmm, long legs, somewhat taller, and sinfully plump lips. He is as pretty as a peach. Those green eyes are quite charming too.

“Depends on how sweet," I set my glass down and keep my gaze on the stranger, what harm can a little flirting do with a pretty fella? A heat in my chest flourishes, dusting away the years of cobwebs that have clustered there. The small smile on my face is not at all forced. "If I don't get any cavities or diabetes, then it's not really worth my time."

The boy giggles—Giggles!—as he taps his fingers against the wood of the bar counter, “And how much is your time worth?”

“Depends if I'm on or off the clock," I find myself chuckling along, mostly at the slow drawl of his words that I can see myself listening to all day talking about nothing and everything. Oh and the subtle joke that I’m for sale is quite funny too...I’m a bit tipsy.

I squint my eyes a little to focus more on the boy's face, trying to gauge the interest that is clearly written over those soft features. I’m satisfied to see that it is rather high and small grin tugs at the corners of my lips as the boy turns to give me his full attention. 

He leans on his arm that is resting against the bar and cocks his head to the side, a few loose strands of long curls falling over his face. “And what is it that you do…?”

“Tomlinson,” I supply.

The boy's eyes widen as he draws back a little and the tapping fingers twitch to a stall. I start to worry that I’ve made a mistake by giving just my last name, having professional formality ingrained into me over the years. However, the boy is pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth and he is inching closer than he was before. 

“...M-Mr. Tomlinson?” His voice is throatier and a tinge of pink graces his cheeks as he swipes his tongue over those luscious and very pink lips.

Hearing and seeing that sends a surprising rush through my body, all the way down south, and I have to shift a bit in my seat to adjust myself. I open my mouth to give a reply but again I find the words getting lost in my throat as the boy is slowly batting his lashes. Dark emerald eyes rake over my body and I gulp at the burning desire to give this boy exactly what he needs so desperately inside of him. 

Fuck...I cannot think straight, literally.

“Oh, there is no need for you to pay, it's on the house!” The Bartender suddenly appears and is sliding the greenbacks I left back over to me.

I’m grateful for the interruption and I try not to smile as I catch the boy rolling his eyes and huffing with a pout. I clear my throat to stall as I gather my thoughts and shift my attention to the Bartender. With a polite smile and a steady voice, I hope isn’t too high, I say: “No I insist on paying for my purchases.”

“Your friends told us that you work with them, Detective. All Law Enforcement drink for free!”

“Oh…” 

I ain’t the type of person to take handouts or freebies. 

Having pullin’ yourself up by your bootstraps a central tenet in the Tomlinson Clan, right next to God and Family, I’ve learned to work hard and never take a handout. Eventually, they always end up biting you in the ass. However, I can see the determination in the bartender’s eyes and I know there is no point in trying to change his mind. 

“Thank you, but I insist that you keep the tip. It's the least I can do.” 

I hand him back a generous amount of bills and decline a refill of my drink. I raise an eyebrow as the Bartender partially ignores me and pulls out an expensive-looking bottle of tequila. He glances over to the boy before turning back to me with a knowing look as he begins to mix the drink, putting on a really good show for us. 

After a brief moment, it all clicks in my head as the Bartender finally pours the drink into a fancy cocktail glass that this show isn't meant for me. I peek at the boy from the corner of my eye and fought back a smile at the wide-eyed expression on the boy's face. The curly boy watching curiously with a gaping mouth as the Bartender lit a match and brought it to the colorful drink. He jumps as a flame erupts from the glass and silently mouths a “wow”, entirely entranced by the show.

“On the house.” The Bartender says as he slides the glass over to the boy and gives me a pointed look. “Right, Detective?”

I nod after a brief moment, being distracted by the show myself and the curly boy that is currently taking my breath away, “Y-Yes of course.”

“Thank you, Detective Tomlinson!” The boy beams with an adorable grin that almost knocks me off my stool. 

After the Bartender leaves us, I chuckle and watch the boy happily take the glass with both of his large hands. His fingers completely wrapping around the base, I can only imagine how good those hands would feel around something else. He then brings the drink to his lips and hums curiously as he licks the colorful liquid like a kitten. His eyes then pop open and I never could think that the smile that has never left that dimpled face could grow more, but it does.

“Please, call me Louis,” I nod as the boy absentmindedly taps his long fingers against the wide bowl of the glass. He looks so innocent with his doe eyes locking onto the drink like a child having their first coke. I then realize that I don’t even know the boy’s name and I really need to stop calling him _The Boy_ or _Curly_ in my head. “I don’t think I caught your name, Darlin’?”

The boy suddenly starts choking on his current sip, coughing up a storm. I smirk at the blush filling those cheeks and his bashful smile, “I-I—No I didn't give it to you. Not yet anyway.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“B-Because I want to be mysterious!” He announces through his still lasting fit of coughs. He tries to clear his throat but that did nothing and after a few moments, he suddenly stills and lets out a small hiccup. “A-and you can just call me _Darling_. I-I like it.” 

I snort at my _Mysterious Darling_ trying to mimic my southern accent and at his groan for the coughs that are now replaced with small cute hiccups separating his words—Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit, how does one even find hiccups cute? 

I perch my chin on my palm, my attention fully on my Darling. “I can keep on callin’ you my Darlin’ if you want and besides you already know my first and last. I think I deserve to know the name of the looker who brightened up my night,” I reason with a small compliment tacked on for good measure.

Darling purses his pink lips, hiccups were now gone, as he nods his head side to side, cutie. “Fair enough, I'm Harry,” He places his now empty glass down and shyly looks away. “Did I really brighten up your night?”

“Why of course Darlin’!” I chuckle as I reach out for Harry’s shoulder and squeeze it reassuringly. He glances at my touch with his face flushing even more. He looks down as he clasps his own hands together on his lap, so cute. “I was fixin’ my way out and I have to say I'm glad I stayed to chat with a cute boy like you.”

His head snaps up at that and I can't help but swoon at the hopeful expression on his face, “Y-You think I'm cute?”

Oh, well I didn't think he would latch onto that. His shy nature is endearing but I manage to quickly gather my thoughts and craft a rather charming reply, at least in my opinion. “Who wouldn't? I mean you are, in every sense of the word, a cutie. Beautiful too. A very pretty boy.”

I’m surprising myself with my own words as much as I did Harry; if judging by his ever-widening doe eyes and slightly parted lips. I’ve planned on just saying a simple thing along the lines of an _“Of course you are”_ but I rather like the raw words that come from… my heart? No matter where it's from, I’m happy to feel Harry's soft hand over the one I still have resting on his shoulder.

“D-Do you—” He squeezes my hand and lowers it down between us, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles. 

I then take note of the many rings on the boy’s hands and start to wonder about their significance. Are there stories behind them? Do they hold sentimental value? Or are they just for his enjoyment? I bet he would look good in one that I’ve bought for him or a few—

“Can we dance, please?”

Those thoughts fade away and I'm finding myself nodding along with a breathless _“Of course, anythin’ for you, Darlin’”_ and he is jumping off his stool. I’m barely able to shrug my jacket back on as I’m dragged to the dance floor by a prancing boy with the silliest dimpled smile gracing his pink lips. Surprisingly, not once did we bump into anyone as we make our way to the center of neon and sweaty bodies.

Harry stops to turn around, his eyes locking onto mine, and saunters close till there’s barely any space left between us. He takes both my hands into his own larger ones and guides them down below his slender waist so that they rest dangerously low on his hips. I gulp hard as my fingers cup his rather perky ass and he lays his head on my shoulder as he wraps his arms around my neck, his breathing hot and ragged against my skin.

We then start to sway, not to the music but to each other, and it feels so second nature and comes easily. Even though the boy is stepping on my toes from time to time, I can’t care less since I’m actually finding it quite adorable. Christ, he is just too cute and I feel as though I can get a cavity just from being in his presence. 

Letting the boy fully lean his larger lanky frame onto me, I turn my head to bury the side of my face into those soft curls. I take a small whiff and bask in the sweet smell of strawberry and flowers. I move closer so I can clasp my hands together on the pitch of his perfect bottom.

“So…” I start to say after a few minutes of holding him in my arms and slowly swaying to the music. Music that has the crowd around us rutting against each other like animals. Aren’t we a pair of strange creatures. “How old are you Darlin’?”

“Twenty One.” He breathes hotly against my neck, his lips leaving goosebumps from the delicate touch.

“So young.”

He laughs and I can feel his wide smile on my skin, “Old enough to drink and it's my first time clubbing. Today is my birthday!”

“Happy birthday Darlin’—Oh!” I bite back a groan as the boy begins to plant light kisses on my neck. “H-Have you ever had alcohol before?”

I feel him smiling before I gulp from a small kitten lick as he pulls me even closer, “N-No. I'm a good boy, Detective. It's why I'm out clubbing with my best mates! B-But I ditched ‘em.”

“Why’d you do that? You want to be a bad boy?” I let my hands slide down to grip his ass. Eliciting a moan from him and making him slump against my chest. His hands are now grasping desperately at the collar of my white t-shirt.

“Mmm... they weren't letting me have fun. Major buzzkills those tossers.” I chuckle at the boy's failing attempt at sounding irritated as I lightly squeeze and rub my fingers along his cheeks, his words coming out more desperate than anything. “C-Can we not talk? J-Just—”

I lean in and whisper into the withering boy's ear as he tries to grind up against me. “Just what baby?” 

“I-I want you. Want to be a good boy for you D-Daddy.”

I smirk at that, surprised at how that one word mixed with the eager boy desperately moving against me is sending a pleasurable shiver down my spine. It is taking all my inebriated self-control to not pull this boy's pants down and fuck him senseless right here on the dance floor. But as I said: I’m well beyond tipsy now and I really need to get inside my Darlin’ Harry. 

“Do you want to go back to my—”

The sudden changing of the song into one that chills my blood to ice and fills my ears with the long continuous ringing of a single high pitch beep and the frantic yelling of nurses makes me freeze. My skin goes numb as I find myself untangling my limbs from the boy. I can feel my head frantically shake and my feet are taking me away from him as fear and anger encompass every fiber of my being.

I can’t handle the hurt look on his face, a look that quickly twists into one of worry, and I lower my gaze to my shaking hands and gasp in horror at what I see.

Blood, so much blood. But not mine. No, it's not. It's him, it's theirs.

My loves.

My heart pounds roughly against my eardrums, drowning out all other sounds including Harry's far off words, as I stare at my scarlet hands. I can feel my chest constricting around my lungs as I start to struggle to breathe. My vision blurs from the tears welling up in my eyes and the space around me is closing in. Becoming smaller and smaller as a crowd gathers around to watch.

I snap and I know exactly what I need to do, the one thing I can do.

Fight—No, flight. 

Run. 

Run now.

# . . .

I knew it was a mistake.

Knew it as soon as I feel the cool ocean air scorching my skin, immediately knocking me back to my senses. How could I have not realized it? Realize that falling into my old habits of drinking and clubbing would send me down that harsh memory lane of a long lost time of young love and hope. Hope for a future—for a family—that was ripped from my arms. 

I choke back a sob when I find myself nearing my car. I'm grateful that I've parked close to the club entrance, not knowing how far I can stumble before collapsing right there on the spot. I turn around, falling back against the cool metal and dropping my head onto my hands. When I feel the wetness against my face, I immediately pull back in fear.

_Blood._

I sigh, not of relief or disappointment but of indifference, at the sight of my hands covered in fresh tears. I find my shoulders shaking from laughter and I realize that this is the first time in years that I have cried over them, apart from the night terrors that have been waning over time. I don’t know why my first reaction is to laugh hysterically like a madman, but I do. 

_It does nothing._

When I finally regain control over myself, I tilt my head up towards the black night sky and chuckle breathlessly. Being near the city there are barely any stars out that night except for that one constellation, Capricornus, and I can feel in my heart that he is smiling down on me. Ever keeping watch on my most terrible nights to make sure I’m alright. He was always worried about me—the bastard—even though he was the one with—

Shaking my head, I rub at my puffy red eyes as I look away and fish my wallet from my jeans’ pocket. I take a deep breath and—damn, my hands are already shaking—flip the piece of leather open and pull out two folded up polaroids that are safely tucked away in the plastic holding the pictures of my Mom, father, and many sisters.

My whole body shakes like a leaf and I know that this can break me. I can snap me in two. Leave me forever broken after so many years of healing and trying to return to normal.

I scoff, I know I've never really recovered from those old wounds. I know that I’m just barely keeping it together after all these years. Closing myself from others, burying my feelings, and surrendering myself fully to the job, it wasn’t normal or healthy and I know that.

But what else am I supposed to do?

After losing so much at a young age I...lost myself. I went on drinking binges so I can forget with the help of alcohol. To pass out and maybe one day not wake up to a lonely world. I wanted so desperately to join them but my family, God bless ‘em, opened my eyes to their own pain if I would ever leave them for good. I can never do that to them. To make them feel this emptiness, so I vow to make them proud and I have cleaned up my act for the most part.

But how long can I go like this?

How long can I be a broken thing with emptiness where I used to have a heart? I feel synthetic, like a machine with gears and cogs, no beating muscle in my chest. Just a constant ache, a hole, from going day by day with no desire but to complete my daily routines just to start it all over again the next day.

I need them to snap me back, so I can feel...human again

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing there, leaning against my car itching to unfold those polaroids and see those brown eyes and that wonderful black and white photo, but it must have been a long time since the street is now flooding with people leaving the club.

I hear someone stomping over and quickly I tuck the photos back and pocket my wallet. I still have my head down when two feet in rather elegant sparkly boots came into sight. I can’t help but smile at how they are slightly turning in towards each other at the tips. Hearing the person clear their throat rather loudly, I look up and my eyes widen.

It is my Darling Boy, Harry.

I’m startled, not surprised, but rather caught off guard at the scowling glare that is now replacing his usual bright and soft demeanor I’ve experienced back at the club. His brows are pinch together, nose scrunched up with his nostrils flaring, and his plump lips—now pushed together into a thin line—are turned down forming a deep frown.

His eyes are dilated, blown with fury as he glares at me, “W-Why did you leave me you arsehole?” 

The boy’s words are slurring, running into each other like wild hogs, and I choose to ignore the profanity that is harshly directed at me. Instead, I’m more concerned with how the boy’s curls are matted down from sweat as he slightly sways side to side, struggling to keep his head up. His face softens like a child finding a wounded animal and I laugh on the inside at how insanely right that feels. 

“Wha—Were you crying?”

I open my mouth to retort but a strange man approaches from behind Harry and lays an arm around the boy’s shoulder, “C’mon doll face we don’t have much time.”

My nose scrunches up at the strange burly man reeking of beer and I furrow my eyebrows as I watch Harry slump against him. The boy giggling like a manic and the man tightening his grip as he glares at me. This is raising many red flags and I carefully observe with scrutiny as Harry’s face contorts into one of primal desire when he turns to face the strange man, completely forgetting about me.

Lacking any sense of focus.

Dilated pupils.

Some to catch a predator lookin’ motherfucker stalking him like some piece of meat.

Son of a bitch.

Harry… 

Harry is drugged.

“O-Okay, lets—”

Harry jumps as I grab his arm and effortlessly pull him away from the man. I have seen enough to know what is going on and I have to stop this, to protect Harry from a heinous scar that will leave him forever changed. I bring him to my side and wrap a protective arm around the boy's waist. He slumps against me as my grip tightens, gently rubbing my thumb over his hip. He immediately stops his lazy squirming.

“I am dropping him off at my place,” I growl as I pull my jacket open to reveal the golden tin clipped to my leather belt. “Unless you would like to take a trip down to the clink? I much rather avoid the paperwork. However, if you want to brawl... I will knock you to sleep, then knock you for sleepin’.”

The man’s eyes widen as he sees the badge and slowly he starts to back away with his hands raised. “L-Look man I didn’t know—”

“Didn't know what!? That you spiked this boy’s drink? Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's rainin'!” I roar as I reach behind my back with the hand that isn't on Harry, the man’s eyes widen in fear. I didn’t carry my sidearm that night, having left it back in my locker at the precinct, but for all this asshole knows; I do have my gun and I want this scum-sucking pig to leave my sight before I do something reckless.

It wouldn't be the first time, like leaving my gun behind.

“Stop… please. N-No more yelling.” Harry whimpers as he curls into me.

“I’m sorry Darlin’, I didn’t mean to frighten you.” I softly whisper as I glare after the man who is now sprinting away down the street.

Fucking coward.

Once the degenerate is out of sight, I turn my attention to my Darling Harry. Gently I rub my hand up and down the shaking boy’s back, trying to comfort him even though he most likely has no idea what the hell is happening. I stop, chuckling at how Harry pouts, so I can shrug off my jacket. I smile as the boy wraps himself with the warmth of the leather and cuddles back into my chest.

“Are you alright, Darlin’?” I ask as I unlock my car and open the passenger side door.

I know I’m preaching to the choir; anything that comes out of Harry’s mouth right now is worthless considering he is drugged and most likely drunk as well. However, I need to hear his voice again just for my self-assurance but all I get is incoherent slurred mumbling as the boy fell like a bag of bricks onto the seat. His droopy eyes are finally closing and light snores escape from his slightly parted lips. I shake my head at the sight as I buckle the seatbelt across the boy’s chest and waist. 

I close my door and as I sat behind the wheel, turning the key to start the car, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of guilt hitting me like a bucking bull. God, it's all my fault. I just freaked out at that dang song as it happens to play after he called me that name. I ran away from him like he was a leper. 

Oh no. 

He must’ve thought I was judging him and gotten drunk to numb himself to the feeling of hurt and embarrassment. I should’ve fucking kept it together! I should have fucking known better! He was already vulnerable from drinking earlier in the night and I hurt him...

It's all my fault.

My anger swells up inside and soon it comes to the point where I feel like a dam that could burst from the seams at any moment. I know I need a release but I don't want to disturb the sleeping boy next to me. So I turn on the heater, making sure Harry is comfortable, got out of my car, lock the doors, and make my way to a nearby alley.

I sigh as I rest my forehead on the brick wall, dragging my tightly clenched fists up against it. I then pull my arms back and swing it forward with all the force I can muster, pouring the entirety of my self-hatred behind the movement. When contact is made, I grit my teeth and let the pain of tearing skin sap the rage from my body. I repeat the action again and again until I’m satisfied that the pressure inside is gone.

Clenching and relaxing my burning fists, I watch with relief as blood pools around the freshly form cuts across my knuckles. I let out a deep sigh as I shakily lit a cigarette and take a few quick drags before dropping it and stomping out the flame. I return to my car with a clear head.

Harry is still out like a light as I turn the ignition, my car’s engine roaring to life. As I take my fingerless gloves from the glove compartment and slip them on with a wince, I know I can’t take the boy back to my place. The last thing I need is a drugged-up kid on my couch but I can’t just leave him here. I’m also sure he doesn’t want to be at a Hospital on his first night out, drugged on his fuckin’ birthday... Crap.

Gently I shook the boy’s shoulder till he stirs to semi-consciousness.

“Where’s your phone, Darlin’?” I ask as his green eyes peek up at me from under the jacket. I can't help but smile at how the boy looks like a newborn lamb with innocent eyes taking in the world around him. Even though there is nothing cute about what has happened to him. I feel the urge to keep this boy safe burning within, like when I used to help with the birthing of horses and taking care of the offspring back home. “I need to call a friend of yours so I can get their address and drop you off.”

His eyes are widening with what looks like fear as he frantically shakes his head, long loose curls bouncing around wildly, “N-No—Worried—kill me for sure!”

“It will be alright Darlin’! They'll be glad to hear that you're fine and on your way home,” I try to assure him. I can barely make sense of the slurring words tumbling from him but I get the gist of it. Goin’ off the reaction, his friends would probably freak when I inform them of the situation. If he is this worried about them then they must really care for his curly head...

I need to get him home as soon as possible or they’ll probably kill me.

When he realizes that I ain’t about to give up or let him go back to sleep, he reluctantly nods his head but not without letting a big sigh leave his lips. I’m about to repeat my request as the boy turns away from me, but my mouth goes dry when he arches his back so that his bottom is on full display.

Despite my efforts, my eyes are immediately drawn to the movement and I gulp. My gaze slowly traveling up the line of the boy's back until they find cheeky green staring back from over his shoulder, tease.

“I-Its in—left pocket…” The boy mumbles as he stares at me expectantly with eyes he is struggling to keep open. “To—Tired.”

“S-Sure thing.” I carefully reach over and quickly pluck the phone from the pocket of those oh so tight jeans, trying so hard to not linger down there.

Ignoring the smug look on the boy's face, I can’t help the heat flushing over mine. I shake my head to focus on the task at hand: unlock the phone and call someone. I’m able to get the code from Harry before the boy shuts his eyes and curls up in on himself. I groan at light snores coming from the boy, I didn't get a name to dial and I really don't want to wake him again. He needs the rest, I think as I type “Kiwi”—weird—into the phone. 

I’m then greeted by a floral wallpaper with many missed calls and texts popping in from the top of the screen. I don't pry into the messages but I do tap on the latest missed call notification, that was five minutes ago, having come to the conclusion that whoever is blowing up the phone is the best person to call. I didn't have wait long, not even one ring later and I have to pull the phone away to protect my right ear from going deaf.

“Harold Edward fucking Styles!” A male voice with a thick Irish accent roars from the other end, stirring Harry a little from his sleep. “There’ll be heat to your arse if you don't tell me where the hell you are! You fecking idiot.”

I fish mouthed for a moment at the choice of words and how the yelling quickly turned into panic sobs. “U-Um... I'm guessin’ you're a friend of Harry's?”

“No fucking shit Sherlock, ” Irish grumbles as I hear movement and sniffling on the other end. Then in a more worried and serious tone, the voice asks: “Who the fuck are you and why do you have Harry's fucking phone?”

“Ugh, how do I go about explainin’ this...” I start to say as I rub the back of my neck. “I have Harry in my car. H-He is fine—safe—but really out of it and I don't want to leave him alone. If you could give me your address I can drop him off at yours?”

After a moment of silence, I’m sure the call has dropped or something. Then I hear more rustling and muffled whispers as I wait patiently for a reply. The whispers grew in intensity and I start to wonder if I should just give the address to the club so Irish can come over to pick up Harry up himself.

“H-Hello?” An English voice greets me tenderly and with concern dripping from each syllable. It is a polar opposite to the other one a moment ago, less wild like a rattlesnake and more tamed like a wise cow dog. It is definitely another more level headed person like me, ha level headed my left—

“Harry is with you? Is he alright? Can you please bring him back?”

I assure English that Harry is safe and sound. I then inform both Irish—who was muttering swears left and right—and the soon-to-have-a-heart-attack English that I’m a detective, which calms the two immensely. They quickly disclose their address, talking over each other, but I’m in fact a master of deciphering hysteria.

I thank them for their trust and say that I’ll be at their door soon with their “idiot man child”—their words. The two are quick to turn down my thanks, professing their own gratitude as I suppress a cooing noise in my throat at how they come off as the boy's parents more than his friends. Anyway, I ain’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and I already know better than to argue with the two. I accept their thanks before hanging up. 

I’m careful and cautious as I drive out onto the street and away from the club. I can't keep my eyes from glancing over to Harry as we ride under many street lights and pass other late-night drivers. I try to convince myself that I’m just making sure Curls is still asleep and comfortable, but I know better.

I’m growing attached to him.

With my glasses back on the bridge of my nose, I’m able to truly appreciate his looks. His jawline and cheekbones are defined but his round squarish face gives an overall boyish look. Those full pink lips are hard to miss, especially in contrast to the milky white skin that is tinted a faint flush of red. At the moment I find myself wanting nothing more than to brush away the curls that fall over his eyes and feel those pillow lips against mine. But I have enough self-control to not force myself and besides, I really need to focus on the road and he is as high as a kite.

“Don't worry,” I whisper as my still bloody hands tighten around the wheel; the leather of my gloves and of the wheel churning as they rub together. “You’ll be home soon, Darlin’.”

# . . .

I feel shame. But the traffic isn't letting up and I don't have any other choice. I cannot just sit on my fine ass stuck between cars for hours just to go a few blocks. 

In all my years as an arm of the law, never once did it before. Never have I had the urge to use the privileges of a cop for personal use but—

I had no choice! I promised to bring him home as soon as possible and Louis Tomlinson keeps his word! 

I had to use my siren!

I’m a disgrace...but I’ve no regrets for it needed to be done.

Five minutes tops and I’m parking my car at the address that was relayed to me. I switch off my siren lights, having the horn off as I pull onto the street, and took a peek out the window Harry is leaning his head against. I don't know what I’ve expected to see but I should've known by the downtown address that an apartment complex is what was waiting for me.

A rather fancy and expensive-looking one at that.

A complete opposite to my suburban-like two-story white picket fence home I bought on the outskirts of the city. The morning commute is a bitch but it's well worth it. Having a quiet place for myself to come to at the end of a long shift is a godsend.

“Harry, Darlin’." I softly say to not spook the boy as I lightly shake him awake. "We're at your friends’ apartment."

He groans as he mutters quiet profanities, I chuckle at that, and slowly he sits up with a hand holding his head. His face twists with confusion as he takes in his surroundings but when his eyes land on me, he smiles fondly. “H-Hi LouLou..."

“Hiya, Darlin’,” I smirk at the nickname but I just chalk it to him being under the influence. “Are you ready?”

He nods.

After I send a text with Harry's phone to ask his friends for their apartment number, we both silently climb out of the car to stand on the sidewalk. I wait for the boy to make the first move and I’m glad I did so. As soon as a boot-clad foot rises from the ground, he is falling over like a sack of potatoes.

“Hold on there partner!" I laugh as I stop the boy's decent by grabbing a hold of his arm. I let him lean against me, waiting for the boy's mind to catch up with his long limbs. “Can you walk?"

He shakes his head.

“Do you want me to carry you?"

He sheepishly smiles and looks away with a flare of pink to his cheeks.

“Alrighty, Darlin’." 

I lay my arm across his back and bend at my knees a little to place the other under his thighs. With a grunt and one swift tug, I easily lift the taller boy into my chest. He yelps and quickly wraps his arms around my neck.

He remains silent in my arms as we step into the apartment complex. Though I can tell he isn’t asleep since I feel his green eyes on me but I just balance my focus on holding him, my steps, and getting the boy to his worry-filled friends. Don't get me wrong, I do not mind carrying the boy like a bride even when I have to ascend five flights of stairs. A lifetime of being physically active means that carrying a grown man like him doesn’t take much effort. 

For appearing large, he is surprisingly light as a feather but exertion and time will make any feather feel like a block of cement. I can already feel my calves start to burn and ache as I reach the destined floor but I push on through the pain all the way to the door of apartment 5D. Why couldn't they be in 1D? So I wouldn't have to climb all these fucking stairs—

“You know… there's an elevator."

I barely catch Harry's whimsical whisper and once I fully process it I let out a loud and annoyed groan. A small laugh to escapes from the boy clinging to me. “Well, I’ll be! At Least I got some exercise with a pretty boy in my arms.”

“Cute…” He mumbles as he raises a hand from my chest and pushes my falling glasses up my nose.

“Thanks." 

With Harry still in my arms and giggling into my neck, I use his foot to ring the doorbell since my hands are rather preoccupied. I hear a loud commotion on the other side and cautiously glance at Harry who is staring back at me with equal confusion before I turn back to the door as the noise grew closer and in intensity. I jolt a little at a loud bang hitting the door, almost knocking the slab of wood off its hinges, and Harry just giggles against me. 

Then after a brief silence, worrying calls, and angry; the door opens to reveal two men. The one with blonde wild hair turning brown at the roots—Irish—is pinching his nose as he glares at the other one with shorter brown hair and worries in his eyes. “Why the hell did you lock the fucking door! I almost broke me nose and me bum!”

“I-I’m so sorry babe!” The worried one—English—raises a napkin to the fuming tiny blonde’s nose. “You know how I am! I always lock the door! I don’t want to get murdered by some psycho in my sleep!”

The blonde hiss as pressure is applied by English and he angrily snatches the napkin away, “Oi! You knew Harry was on his way! With a Detective for christ sakes!”

“Yeah but he said soon and I didn’t want to leave the door unlocked for an undetermined amount of time.”

“Liam, Liam, Liam,” Irish groans as he tore the napkin in two, plugging his bleeding nostrils with them. “You-You just got a fucking text saying they were coming up! You are lucky I love your arse or else you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight!”

English rolls his eyes, “I love you too Ni, but you have to understand where I am coming from.”

“Yeah... in my mouth.”

“Niall!”

I just stand there, stun and mouth agape. I ain’t quite sure if I should interrupt or let whatever this is play itself out. It is quite entertaining to watch these two bickering like an old married couple, but the boy in my arms is getting heavier and heavier as the minutes pass by. I look over at Harry only to see that the boy has nodded off again but with a smirk playing on his lips. I chuckle as I roll my eyes at him, the noise gaining the attention of the two men—Liam and Niall—who are still in the doorway.

“Whoa…” Niall gapes with a dropped jaw as his wide blue eyes look me up and down. “Just… wow.”

I shift under the gaze especially when Liam wraps an arm around Niall’s waist, glaring with jealousy. There wasn’t much heat behind it but I got the point, they are both spoken for. “Niall.”

“S-Sorry, sorry.” Niall shakes his head as he holds his hand out. I just stare at it and shrug my shoulders, drawing the energetic sea blue eyes to Harry. The blonde blushes and quickly returns his hand to his side. “S-Sorry but you are just—How do I go about this without offending my Liam?”

“Why would I be offended by you complementing an obviously attractive lad?” Liam scoffs.

Niall immediately shakes his head, “No, no, no! Shawn Mendes is attractive. Nando’s is extremely attractive. Hell, dinner at a fancy restaurant with small ass portions is attractive—only on special occasions. This man—” He gestures to the entirety of me, “—is fucking sexy! Daddy even!”

Liam narrows his eyes, pursing his lips as he rubs the scruff on his jaw and looks from Niall then to me. He raises an eyebrow as he examines me and after a minute he hums in agreement, “He is a hot lad.”

“Li…” Niall drops his head in his palm. “You don’t fully understand the gravity of what I am talking about. This hot lad, this detective, this man who is a daddy as fuck with those glasses and a scruffy beard that can leave delicious burns is carrying our large ass Harry—” 

Harry’s head whips up at that and he weakly mumbles a “Hey!” before nodding off again. 

“—Sorry Harry but you are mostly muscle you lanky lad—wait.” Niall stops, laying his hands on his hip as he turns to face Liam and cocks his head to the side, “When was the last time you carried me like that!?”

“W-What? I carry you all the time!” Liam looks offended by the accusation.

“Name one time,” Niall crosses his arms over his chest, “When you carried me like that.”

“Oh, Um well how about… No, I think you carried me that time…”

“See! You can't!"

“Ok, you got me there, Niall."

Niall huffs and turns his back on Liam, “I don't want to get the better of you! It's just… I want to be… manhandled sometimes.”

"Oh…" Liam's eyes soften and as he shuffles closer to hug the blonde from behind. “Why didn't you say something before?"

“Guess I was just embarrassed to ask.” Niall shrugs as he leans back into the embrace.

"Since when do you not speak your mind?” Liam laughs and snuggles his head into the blonde’s hair. “That's what I love about you! You always tell me what's up and we work through it.”

"Shut up, you're making me blush in front of the hot detective.” Niall quickly turns his head to peck Liam’s cheek.

"Love you too, babe.”

I’m feeling like a real third wheel right now. I decide to just stay as quiet as a mouse as I watch whatever the fuck is happening before me. I can't help but feel a little jealous at what these two have and a bit sad at how it reminds me of happier days...

Anyway, I can't just wait at their doorstep forever.

So...after a few minutes of cooing from the two, I clear my throat and smile as nonchalantly as I can muster. The men separate with love still in their eyes and blushes to their cheeks. “I'm sorry to interrupt but it's awfully chilly and I'm sure Harry would much rather be in bed than in my arms.”

“Oh, I bet he would love to be in those guns.” Niall snickers.

Liam promptly smacks the back of the laughing Irishman’s head, “Please come in!" He motions Harry and me inside as Niall disappears down the hallway. 

I nod with appreciation and quickly carry Harry through the threshold of the door to which Liam waste no time to close and lock behind us. I bask in the warmth of the apartment as I continue onward until I come to an open concept living room and kitchen combo. The place is surprisingly organized and clean considering three fellas are residing in it. It also appears large, even with the many pictures on the white walls and the couch that can fit five in the center of the room. I then spot two doors across the way, assuming those lead to the bedrooms, and another to his side, probably the main bathroom.

“Over here!" Niall's head pops in from behind one of the two doors. “You can drop him off on his bed in here.”

I nod and make my way over to the blonde boy. Once I reach him, he kicks the door wide open and walks past me to plop down on the couch in the living room. I try not to chuckle as I enter the darkroom, pausing for a moment so my eyes can adjust. Stepping over a few textbooks, crumpled up papers, and clothes that are scattered across the pink carpet floor.

I stroll through the private and intimate sanctuary that belongs to one Harry Styles, taking the moment to admire the rock n roll posters, paintings of flowers, and the array of polaroids that clung to the walls. I smile at the bookshelf in the corner that is filled to the brim with random nick nacks, like a small statue of a swallow to a jar of sand with seashells, and with only a worn leather-bound journal as the only book on the shelves. I can’t help but wonder, as I lay the boy on the bed, what's written in those pages and what songs Harry would listen to on that record player resting on the modest desk in the other corner. 

Or the story behind that bedazzled Pepsi can on the nightstand. 

I tuck the boy in with the floral blanket that is so Harry and sat on the edge of the bed. I smile as the boy rolls on his side and curls in on himself like a child. With a gentle hand, I tuck a few stray curls behind the boy’s ears and sigh happily at the peaceful sight of a sleeping Harry. When the thought of waking up to such a mystical thing day after day comes to mind, I shake my head and stand up to leave the strangely cozy room that makes my feet hard to move.

Purposefully I forget my leather jacket with the boy.

I gently close the door to Harry’s room and turn around to see Niall and Liam sitting in the living room, not on the couch mind you, but on the floor. They pause mid snacking on some potato chips with their eyes glued onto me. The one named Liam shakes from his stupor and shoves Niall’s shoulder before standing up. He holds out a hand as I walk over to the two and politely accept the welcoming gesture with a firm shake.

“I’m Liam and thank you so much detective,” English says with a smile as Niall stands up by his side.

“Niall. And yeah, we would’ve gone crazy worrying over that boy. Call the cops we would if he didn’t show up in the morning.” Niall wipes the remnants of chips off his hands and onto his sweatpants. “I still can’t believe he ditched us. That’s just something he wouldn't do, more like something I would do.”

“Yup you did Nialler, on our two month anniversary—Anyway, I have class tomorrow and someone needs to be here to help him through his first hangover,” Liam gives Niall a pointed look and the blonde sighs deeply before he nods his head. “Good… Now I have to get some pain pills for his headache. I wonder how much he had to drink to get blackout drunk on his first night. That tosser is going to get an earful from me later.”

I stiffen at the mention of Harry’s first drinking night. His fucking first time drinking. First time having a night out and he ends up fucking drugged and almost raped. Anger rumbles within me as the burning embers inside ignite into a wildfire. Then tendrils of dread twist and turn from my stomach, caging the flame with vines of...guilt. 

I know where the feeling is originating from and should not be surprised that it overcomes the hungry flame. I’ve always been more affected by it the most. The guilt of not being able to protect others or bring victims the closure they deserve weighs ever heavy on my shoulders. The anger would quell the emptiness I feel, making a shaky balance between the two but sometimes it's not enough, right now it's not and I need a release.

However, I will myself to stay focus on the need to inform these two about what is really going on with Harry. That the boy is indeed drunk but also drugged by some guy with insidious intent. As an officer of the law, it's my duty but I can’t help the brief hesitation I suddenly feel. For stating the gravity of Harry’s condition they will certainly ask how it came to that and I’ll have to bear the shame of the truth. 

That it’s all my fault.

“It wasn’t the drinkin’,” I finally breathe out, forcing a gulp down despite the dryness of my mouth when their confused and worried filled faces snap to me. “He did drink but... I suspect he was also drugged.”

“W-What? Like someone slipped something in his drink?” Liam looks horrified, like the thought of someone capable of doing such a thing is incomprehensible to the Englishman.

I feel empathy for the guy since I know exactly what people can do and I was equally as shocked my first time witnessing such things. Now however I don't even bat an eye at those horrors anymore. I’ve seen many things over the years that they seem almost normal; from murders of opportunity to this exact situation of attempted date rape. Though I usually deal with the aftermath, never once have I been able to prevent crime directly until now. That thought sends a surprising tingle of…pride through me but it is overshadowed by the clinging vine of guilt.

Niall reacts differently, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms around his middle. A defensive gesture if I ever saw one. “H-How do you know? Did you see it happen and did nothing to stop it!?”

“Niall!” Liam looks even more horrified as he punches the Irishman’s shoulder, “Don’t be so rude! Who knows what would have happened if detective—”

Clearing my throat, I introduce myself with as much of a steady voice as I can muster, “Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson.”

“—If Louis wasn’t looking out for our Harry. Someone could have taken advantage of him if it weren't for the nice detective.” I raise an eyebrow at Liam using my first name but shake it off when he finishes with my title.

“Fine.” Niall groans and with a playful smirk on his face he punches Liam back on the shoulder. “I know it wasn’t his fault and I’m grateful that he stepped up to help Harry. Well, I guess it is your job to do so, Detective Tomlinson?”

“You are right but I’m afraid there is more to Harry’s situation,” I sigh as worry fills me and I start to pace back and forth across the room. I nervously rubbed the back of my neck. The two seem to understand that what I’m going to say is important and they go sit on the sofa as they exchange curious glances. “So… I guess I should start from the beginnin’.”

# . . .

With traffic always dying down in the late hours of the night, I’m able to get back to my house in record time. As I pull into the driveway I feel rather content about tonight’s events. Even though it started out as being the worst night I have experienced to date. 

I whistle an old song bedtime lullaby as I step out of my car and lock it, happily strolling across my lawn to the steps of my front porch. My mind wanders to the most beautiful boy I’ve ever laid eyes on. Well…the second most beautiful.

Beautiful none the less. 

I chuckle as I unlock my front door and enter my house. Who am I kidding? I’m more than content about this night. I quite frankly don’t think I can ever forget it anytime soon. Or that boy with green eyes, dimples, and wavy curls. 

The boy who made me feel that warm fluttering in my stomach again and the pride of saving him from a degenerate who would’ve taken advantage of him. Even though that horrible situation only happened because I’m still not strong enough to keep myself together. Over that stupid fucking song… 

No…not stupid. 

Just...fucking important, full of happiness and despair.

How cruel is that?

I shake those thoughts away as I drop my keys on the hallway table by the door and make my way to the bedroom for some much-needed rest. I can’t allow myself to fall back, choosing to take solace in the silver linings and in the words of Harry's mates that dull the thorns of the dread-filled vines inside. The mates who were smiling brightly at me like I was Wyatt Earp in the flesh. The ones who claim that no matter the reason behind Harry choosing to drink irresponsibly, I’m the one who chose to act and save the boy.

“Yeah! You helped him while most would just ignore it and wish for the best!”

“You saved him like Superman! You're a real-life hero! An example for others to follow!”

“Exactly! A right hero you are! Oh, can we have your number? Just so we can contact you? You know... if Harry would like to press charges?”

I chuckle softly as I climb the stairs. I'm no Superman, I was just doing my job. Doing the right thing as anyone would do. Helping others is what makes us human.

It's what makes me human...

I know they were lying about the reason behind the request for my contact information. Or at least I hope they were since giving my business card with the station's number and my extension wasn't enough of them. I ended up happily writing my personal cell phone number on the back of the cardstock to receive approving smiles from both of them as I leave. I hope they do give Harry my card since I have an itch to see that boy again or at the very least hear that slow deep sweet voice like molasses mixed with honey.

I feel something for that boy, something more than just attraction, and I hope that Harry does too even from our brief encounter when he was lucid. I wonder if the boy would even remember me. I don’t know how much or exactly what that boy was spiked with but the symptoms were clear as day. I shake my head at myself for overthinking this whole thing.

I just did my job and that was that. 

If I never hear from that boy again then…It is how it is and I can’t dwell on it. I have enough baggage as it is. I doubt anyone would care enough to share the load.

I ignore the sharp pain in my chest at the thought and push onward, having come to terms with being forever alone when I lost the most important people to me.

Instead of my bedroom, I find myself in the doorway of my study that is back on the first floor with my jeans and shirt replace with sweatpants and a large sweater. It's a small room, small enough to be cozy but not cramped, and the walls are lined with bookshelves filled with my beloved’s collection of graphic novels and comics. Hanging carefully in the spaces where the bookshelves don't cover are sketches and paintings securely placed in handmade wooden and metal frames.

All with the same initials, branding them with a name I can no longer bring myself to say.

I step through the threshold, having gained the courage to do so over a year ago, and I sit on the couch by the patio that opens up to the backyard. I don't bother turning on the warm glow of the light bulb, the pale moonlight being enough for me to see. I feel the weight of my emotions hit me at this moment as the tension builds in the air. My watering eyes wander over the room until they land on the coffee table by my feet. More specifically on the leather-bound sketchbook right in front of my legs.

My shaking hands reach out and I pick it up. With a gulp, I open the sketchbook to the last thing _He_ was working on.

I wipe the tears pooling around my eyes and shut the book. Carefully setting the sketchbook back in its place as I find a cigarette in my mouth. Lighter ready to set one end a flame. 

I breathe in the smoke and let the burning tingle in my lungs set in and the taste of nicotine ease my nerves. I lean back into the couch and squint my eyes at the rising sun as it fills the room with oranges and yellows waning away from the dark blue of the night. I laugh at myself as I take another drag. 

I can’t believe I was sitting here for hours with my emotions bare for the world over a sketch that cracks my heart. I wonder if I can ever look through those pages without breaking down in some way but I know I’m making progress. Not even a year ago I thought I would never be able to enter this room. Yet here I am and all that’s left are these photos burning a hole in my back pocket. 

I’ll leave them for another day...

I feel somewhat better now if there is anything to take away from this. Knowing that I can feel something else in that endless well of sorrow and despair. Something other than rage and disdain. 

Something that vaguely feels like…hope and a long lost feeling. The two are burning away the black tendrils that hold me down with heavy guilt. I so desperately want to grab onto that since it feels so much better than the sweet release of pain, the overwhelming anger, or the dulling satisfaction from helping others.

There is something in my gut that is urging me to chase these two fleeting feelings. That they will be enough to make me whole again. To make me enjoy each day again like it were my last. 

I need them.

Sleep soon takes me and I’m welcoming the numbing darkness with open arms. Instead of the cool air of a room and deathly silence, I find myself smiling as I see two green orbs waiting for me. Darlin’ Harry…

# △▼11.4k▼△


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis and Harry get to know each other, and confessions are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor edits made on Aug 14th, 2019.
> 
> Fixed some errors, added a few details, and changed some sentences/paragraphs structure.

 

# △▼LT▼△

“Son of a mother-lovin’ piece of crap burnt to hell biscuit!” I’m groaning as I clench my jaw in spite of the searing pain coursing through my cheek and teeth. My, now glassless, eyes narrow into slits as I rub my knuckles against the side of my face. Grinding my teeth at the stinging sensation slicing through my skin, I spit out the blood pooling in my mouth and onto the asphalt.

I let out a rage-fueled animalistic growl.

My feet hit the pavement, hard, as I launch myself forward. I keep my breath regulating at a steady pace as I pick up speed with ease. Utilizing the years of experience I have with my legs and arms to my advantage, I close the distance the perp has left in no time at all.

He barrels through a crowd of civilians walking along a crosswalk, knocking them over in an effort to lose me in the mayhem, but I’m hot on his heels. It takes all of my concentrated anger to focus on apprehending him and not on my altruistic instinct. The instinct to stop and help the bewildered people who are left on the floor.

Instead, I push onward jumping over and dodging past the civilians like they are just hurdles and I’m an Olympic athlete. I may have fallen back by a rather large margin but the surge of adrenaline quiets down the screaming pain of my calves and I’m able to close the distance with ease. But no matter how hard I push myself the perp seems to be just out of reach.

After a few more blocks of wild chasing, I see my opportunity. A car pulls out of a garage and the perp slides over the hood like he’s a fucking action hero. Oh, I’ll show him, there can only be one cowboy in San Jose. I don’t clamber awkwardly over the hood like the perp, no, I dive over and tackle right into the man who is still recovering from his movements like a dumbass.

We tumble to the ground and I’m quick to overpower him. Pinning the perp face down onto the ground with my knee digging deep into his back. I use my weight and the force of my forearm pressing down across his neck to keep him subdued. I unhinge my handcuffs hanging from my belt to restrain him but my hand stills as I hear a rather loud bang and a slow deep voice cursing.

 _It can’t be._ My head snaps away from the handcuffs just mere inches from closing around his wrists. I look for the source of the sound that I strangely happen to hear over the loud city noise and sure enough, my eyes find those doe green ones across the street.

The boy, Harry is looking rather defeated mix with surprise as he stares right back at me. My eyes travel down his long Bambi legs to an open laptop is laying on the floor next those feet clad in shiny black boots. I don’t have much time to process seeing my Darling Harry again for my head is snapping up towards the sky and I’m falling backward onto hard cement.

“Heavens to fuckin’ Betsy!” I yell as I clamber onto my feet flushing slightly with embarrassment.

In my stupid distraction, the perp is able to elbow my face and escape from my hold. Curses leave from under my breath as I sprint to the nearby alley the perp entered. Seeing the man desperately jumping up to grab a hold of the fire escape on the side of the building, I laugh. “Nowhere to go ya bastard.”

He backs into the dead-end with wild glaring eyes and a hand reaching for the glint of metal at his waistband. My mouth immediately shuts and I turn my nerves to steel, knowing exactly where this is going. I, however, am the fastest gun in the golden state and before the man could even lay a finger on the weapon I’m raising my Glock.

Taking a solemn breath, I squeeze the trigger. Three shots ring out in the alley and the perp crumbles to the floor. He kicks and screams in pain as he clutches at his shoulder and chest, “You fucking shot me! What the fuck!”

“Relax,” I laugh as I steadily approach his crumbling form with my gun still trained on him. “You sure are lucky that I let ‘em take extra from my paycheck for these fuckin’ plastic bullets.”

“Plastic?”

“Yeah, ya tree stump. Now, are you gonna behave? Or do I have to knock you into the middle of next week looking both ways for Sunday?” I shake my head and gesture with the barrel of my gun for him to roll over, the man easily complies.

As I press my knee into the perp’s back again, I chuckle coldly at how compliant this guy is now that he knows I’m not playing around. Well…I kinda am since I’m using plastic bullets and all but back to the point. Once I secure the weapon which happens to be a knife—Dang, I’m gonna get an earful from my captain—I fully secure the handcuffs on him and pull him up onto his feet.

I holster my sidearm as I push the perp out of the alley. “Alrighty, baby rapist,” I say with disgust after I call for backup. “You gonna tell me why you ran? And punched my face? Twice?!”

The man groans and twists in pain as I tighten the cuffs around his wrists, “Ow! This is police brutality! And don’t you need to read me my rights? My lawyer will hear all about this!”

“Sure asswipe,” I grumble as we stop at the curb of the sidewalk. “I only need to read your rights if I’m interrogatin’ ya, which I’m not anymore. So shut your trap because you’re under arrest for assault and battery against an officer of the law.”

Ignoring the profanities spilling from the man, I give thanks to the lord as a patrol car arrives two minutes later. I wave them down and inform the officer of the situation and that my vehicle is a few blocks away, so I need her to process the perp and log the evidence. The officer nods in understanding, taking the knife and bagging it before opening the backseat and calling in the station.

If I happen to accidentally hit the perp’s head against the squad car for resisting, no one would blame me.

Fuckin’ degenerate.

I let out a deep sigh at the disappearing car as I rest my hands on my hips with my elbows bent. I shake my head at the sky, “Supposed to be a simple pick up for questionin’ and turns into the crap show of a rodeo. Son of a—”

“Louis?”

My head snaps to the side and I’m surprised to see the boy who has been keeping me company at night for the past week and a half nervously approaching, “Harry?”

“Hey!” The boy smiles sheepishly and steps closer. “I thought that was you.”

“It is me Darlin’.” I chuckle at him flushing, him covering his mouth with his large hand to hide his goofy smile. He is still as cute as ever and I’ve not fully realized how much I’ve missed those green eyes sparkling with youthful glee until now.

The boy is dressing more casually. Which is to be expected since the last I saw him he was in his apparent partying outfit. A white band graphic t-shirt replaces the fancy floral collared one from that night, but he is still wearing tight black jeans that make those legs look sinful and brown Chelsea boots house his large feet.

I grin noticing that my leather jacket is part of the boy’s ensemble and at how it fits the lanky boy awkwardly but it still somehow looks absolutely perfect.

I try to tone down the heat flourishing in my stomach and the surging feeling of pride in my chest, “H-How have you been?”

“Y-You’re worried about me!?” He gawks like I’m a cock in the hen house, “When you look like shit?”

I defensively widen my stance, an opposite to the boy’s turned in toes, and shrug as I raise an eyebrow, “Thanks?”

“N-No! I didn’t mean it like that!” His eyes are bulging as he sighs. His hands flailing around desperately trying to get me to understand only to have me further pinch my eyebrows with confusion. He then snaps his fingers and exclaims an “Oh!” as he starts to rummage through the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder.

I watch with growing curiosity, wondering what it is this boy is looking for and why is this simple action making my heart race? I don’t have to wait for long—though looking at the many pins clipped to the bag is quite interesting—because he is now pulling out a bandanna. The same green one from that night and he carefully brings it to my face.

“You got a haircut?” I ask as he gently wipes the cloth over my now stinging cheek. The boy applies more pressure to my lips and I let a sharp wince slip from my mouth.

“S-Sorry,” He doesn’t let up though and continues to press down as he smirks. “Its an old style from secondary. Do you like? I had a really hard time deciding if I should cut it but at least now it’s easier to manage and it couldn’t be helped. I needed to look somewhat professional for my internship and a mermaid’s hair doesn’t exactly fit the bill.”

I chuckle as my fingers card through his shorten brown locks making the boy purr adorably and lean into the touch like a kitten, “I’ll miss my brief time with it but this cherub look is doin’ wonders for ya.”

“Thanks.” He blushes wildly before he starts to pout as worry fills his eyes.

“What’s the matter Darlin’?” I watch as he kicks his heel against the ground and averts those green eyes. An obvious sign of hesitance. I quirk an eyebrow as he lets out a deep sigh and raises his curly head with new confidence and…sensitivity?

“D-Did you have to shoot that guy?”

I smile at the boy and remove my hands from the soft cotton-like chocolate brown ringlets. Normally a question like that, one about something I can’t change or one that insinuates I didn’t perform to my fullest, would strike a nerve. However, this time all I can feel behind this inquiry is the wave of concern from the boy. Concern for the perp—who should be locked away in a dark hole or put to death—and concern for myself as if Harry is worried this would affect me negatively.

No judgment just the desire to understand.

I’ve grown up with guns my whole life, so I’m comfortable around such things and the aftermath that they can leave. I know I can handle it. Hunting with my father during the cold winters in the Texas high plains, shooting the coyotes that would come for our livestock, I see guns as a form of protection and a tool for hunting. I’ve only ever used my gun to defend those who can’t protect themselves and provide for my family. As I’m taught and as it is meant to be or in this instance neutralizing a potential threat to myself or others. Of course, shooting a gun leaves an effect on the mind. Hence my brief hesitation in stopping to chat with him since I really need to check in with my captain as soon as possible but at the moment it doesn’t seem to matter as much. Not when I’m in the presence of an endearing boy and the need to comfort him and reassure him takes the forefront of my thoughts. This wanting to get rid of that frown between his eyebrows and stop him from biting the inside of his cheek is like a force of nature that I obviously can’t stop.

“While I am not obligated to explain,” I shrug and smile at the boy who is now pouting. He reminds me of a baby duck from my childhood that I used to take care of in a shallow pound, just plain cute. “I reckon I can let it slip that I only use plastic bullets.”

Curiously I watch as he tries to hide a wide smile. Small giggles escape from his plump pink lips, “Plastic bullets? Then why was he screaming like a bitch?”

“Harry!” A fond laugh bellows from within my chest and I’m absolutely bewildered by the curly boy.

“Sorry,” He shrugs with a blush. “He was so loud I could hear him from across the street. Almost made me jump and drop my laptop again.” The boy rolls his eyes and then bites his bottom lip, his gaze locking with mine. “He was acting like he had a cock up his ass.”

“Oh?” I gulp as I feel a tingling warmth surging from within at the boy’s suggestive and obvious flirtatious comment. It is something that I haven’t felt since forever. A feeling of playfulness and for the first time in a while, I want to play along. I really can’t hold myself back in flirtatious banter, not with Harry looking at me like that, so I blurt out the first words that come to mind. “Is that how you are, Darlin’? Vocal?”

“Nah but I bet you can make me.” A beautiful shade of pink flushes more onto the boy’s cheeks, and he drops his eyes down to his toes. “S-Sorry! I um…sorry, if I’m making you uncomfortable—”

“No, no, no.” My eyes widen and I shake my head trying so hard not to start rolling on the floor laughing.

I really can’t believe this boy. One moment he is caring and sweet as lemon meringue pie and now there is a glint of mischievousness in those green eyes that sends a different tingle through me like tangy barbecue chicken. My heart can’t handle so much fondness taking over.

“I don’t mind,” I grin. “Flirting with you makes me feel young.”

“Flirting.” He mumbles so low I can barely hear it. He quickly raises his curly head and quirks an eyebrow with a satisfied smile on his face. “How old are you anyway? I don’t think you ever told me?”

“Just turned thirty-one last December.”

He says nothing and audibly gulps as his eyes flick over to the sides of my head. I know exactly what they are latching onto, the specks of gray that are slowly taking over my dark brown hair. Raunchy questions quickly flood my mind; does he like older men? Does knowing I’m older turn him on? What else turns him own?

Those thoughts fade away as I smirk at the pink further tinting the boy’s cheeks, making them a nice rosy color. All I want to do at this moment is to reach out and touch to feel the heat under my palm, but I manage to keep my hands at my sides. Instead, I watch as the boy bites his plump bottom lip and nervously shuffles closer till we are inches apart.

Familiar flutter ghosts around my chest and I feel my own cheeks slightly heating up as the boy’s large hand rest on my sternum and my breath catches in my throat. I find myself thinking about how easy it would be to close the minuscule gap between us and get a taste. He smirks as if he can read my mind and the hand still holding the bandanna on my face runs a clothed finger across my upper lip.

I hiss at the boy touching a cut I didn’t notice is there and as I look at the bandanna he is pulling away, I can see how much blood is on it and curse. “Well, I’ll be damned. How bad is it?”

“Looks deep and you got another one on your cheek,” He answers as he places the cloth in my hand. “I stopped the bleeding on that one but you should keep the pressure to cut on your lip.”

I do as I’m told, bringing the bandanna to my mouth. I smile at the boy, “Dang, my glasses must have broken and cut my face…”

“You should think about getting contacts! Not that I don’t mind your glasses! They look great on you,” He giggles as he rolls green eyes playfully and takes a few steps back, “I have a feeling your eyes will look even better without lenses obscuring them.”

The hand on my chest drops down to brush against my knuckles as he stays close enough for me to smell the sweet scent of flowers and… bananas? Mmm. He is looking apprehensive as he starts to fidget in place and nibble at his bottom lip.

“Somethin’ on your mind Darlin’?”

That seems to knock some sense back into him for he is suddenly grabbing hold of my hand and locking his bright green eyes with mine.

“Can—No…T-Take me home!” He blushes at his outburst while all I can do is look on with ever-growing fondness, “I-I mean your cuts look like they need stitches! And-And I have a first aid kit back at my flat! I-I also know how to stitch cuts so this can be part one of my payback for your help that night.”

“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow, “Ya know you don’t have to pay me back for anything, Darlin’. I love helping you.”

He vehemently shakes his head. Wavy curls wildly falling out of place before he runs a hand through them and somehow makes his hair look even better than before. “I know that but I really want you.”

“You…want me?” I smirk as realization dawns over the boy’s reddening face.

“N-No!” He squawks. “I-I mean I do but—fuck—I meant to say that I want to help you!” He froze for a moment and drops his head into the palms of his hands. “And…I just said butt fuck. Fuck!”

Again I’m finding myself trying so hard not to burst out laughing at the boy but I can’t help the wide smile splitting my face. I do chuckle very fondly so that he knows I don’t think that he is weird or that any of this adorableness is off-putting. The very opposite, in fact, I think as I intertwine our fingers and I pull him along down the street.

He stumbles with those long—so very long—legs but is able to fall into step and manages a prancing stroll by my side. “Y-You taking me to your car?”

“Why of course Darlin‘! Though I should be headin’ straight back to the precinct, I can put off my paperwork for you.” I shrug knowing that for sure I’ll get desk duty for this.

I need a break anyway.

The boy smiles and hooks an arm with mine, laying his curly head on my shoulder. If that puts a little spring in my step—Its none of your fuckin’ business.

# …

“Ouch!”

“I didn’t even start on it yet! You made no sound when I did your lip? Like a statue you were!”

“I know.”

“Then why give me a bloody heart attack?”

“Cause I can.”

“Twat.”

“Dork,” I chuckle as I remain still as ever even when Harry starts to stitch the large cut across my cheek.

I’m currently laying on my back on top of the kitchen island in Harry’s shared apartment—the same one on the fifth floor of the student complex—with my legs dangling off the edge and I can’t help but let them swing them mindlessly. Meanwhile, Harry is on a stool to my side as he looms above me with his face showing complete focus on the task at hand. The needle stings as it pierces my skin and the suture leaves a lingering discomfort underneath but I show no sign of it on my face for my Darling Harry’s sake, he looks like he is about to pass out.

I know that I didn’t have to take the boy up on his offer. I’m sort of the expert at bandaging myself up and I have the evidence on my body to show my experience with a needle and suture. Back then I was reckless, throwing caution to the wind, carving my way across the battlefield. I’ve received many reprimands along with commendations for my courage and bravery when in reality all I wanted was to…find an end to the pain.

I’ve moved on from that.

He seems to notice that something is on my mind, his hands stopping their movement, and he exhales a long breath before speaking softly and slowly. His words sound like sweet honey to my ears, “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing… Just how beautiful you look while focusing intently on something. You do know you stick your tongue out a bit? It’s cute,” I shrug as a small smile plays on my lips. I’m finding his overall compassionate nature endearing but I have a feeling he isn’t falling for my cover if the absence of flushing cheeks means anything.

The boy cuts the suture with a pair of small scissors. Finally finishing his work of reducing my chance of infection and further blood loss. Though he doesn’t move away as he puts his tools back into the first aid bag. In fact, he leans ever closer as he runs the pad of his thumb across the ends of the faint scars on the side of my face. The ones that peek out from beneath my hairline with my hair pulling back as I’m positioned like this.

I shiver from the touch that fills me with cozy warmth. It distracts from the uncomfortableness of the sutures settling in my face.

“I-Is this from the job? A fight?” His voice sounds broken. His eyes shining with sympathy as his hands trail down to the expanse of skin exposed from my sleeve bunching up at my elbow, “Or…?”

“No!” I shoot to sit up and stare at the boy with a hanging jaw wondering why on earth he would think such a thing.

From the look on his face, I guess what he was struggling to say. That he’s wondering if I cut myself. Though I do indulge with a release through my fists from time to time that is different and not important right now.

A sudden overwhelming feeling bellows from my stomach. The sensation erupting from my gut is profound and speaks to me like so many times before. I know for a fact I can trust it in all matters, professional or domestic. It can be his deep earnest eyes or the friendly personality that compels my inner self to trust him. I can’t ignore what it’s saying to me and since I’m not one to beat around the bush I figure I should just show him now instead of later—whatever later entails for us—words just don’t seem to be enough with him.

Before I can start to second guess myself, I pull up my long-sleeved shirt over my head and toss it to the kitchen floor. Revealing my bare torso and exposing my arms. I smirk as Harry blushes and averts his gaze from my half-naked body.

However, when I hear the gasp I know that the boy is seeing exactly what I want to show. The scars. The many scars that litter the expanse of my skin are what makes the boy lost for words.

“Got ‘em while I was servin’ in the military,” I say after a beat as he shuffles to stand in between my parted legs.

I gulp at the devastating look on his face and at our closeness in this rather intimate position. I’m having slight trouble wrapping my head around how we always seem to be so close since I’m not one for intimacy anymore. It’s been years since I’ve been this tactile or comfortable around another person in such a long time.

Not since _Him_ and it’s nerve-racking.

I try to put my head on straight as Harry’s sweet smell invades my thoughts. It’s a very appealing and sweet scent that’s calming my growing nervousness. What is he usin’ to smell so good? Is this how he naturally smells? I don’t doubt it for a second. No. Focus Louis! Focus before you chicken out. Why am I even doin’ this? Why am I even nervous?

_Because it’s important and showing him makes him important to you._

I lift my left arm up and roll it over to show the faint scars on my forearms. Tracing a finger over the thin lines, I let out a chuckle, “Got these while tryin’ to climb a barbed-wire fence. I conquered it, obviously, but I was left with these suckers as a reminder. Thankfully you have to be lookin’ really hard to see ’em.”

“Don’t laugh about that,” He is serious and the sadness in those eyes makes the thorny vines inside tighten around my chest.

Is this a good idea? I don’t fully understand why I’m exposing myself like this to…a boy. A boy I only met once and haven’t spoken to for over a week. I’m literally bearing my scars out for him on our second outing.

Why am I even indulging this boy? Letting him stitch me up when I should’ve just gone to the hospital or done it myself. It would have taken far less time and I really need to get back to the office and fill out my paperwork for the shooting before the Captain notices my absence and—

I don’t have the chance to dwell further in my mind for Harry is reaching out. Those large hands hover just centimeters over my skin and his green eyes watch me with caution. As if I’m going to jump and run away at any moment, never to return. Not even touching me and the simple action alone burns the thorns that are clenching around my heart away and I’m on the verge of begging for him to get on with it.

“C-Can I?” He finally asks and I nod. “O-Okay, let me know if you get uncomfortable.” The boy pauses and gives a tentative smile, “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to, you know?”

The sensation I feel is completely different from the brush of knuckles or the simple hand-holding from before. As the tips of his soft fingers trace over the faint scars and travel up my arm, I can feel the tenderness behind it. No, this is anything but simple and I can’t take my eyes off this boy.

His fingers flinch as they touch the scars that are branching up from my back and peeking over my right shoulder. The deeper and more pronounced ones that are more noticeable because of their contrast with my skin. The ones that I’m actually embarrassed to show since they are quite ugly in my opinion and originate from a red burn scar on my right shoulder blade. He gulps, green eyes flicking up to mine before those tingling hands softly touch my skin again.

“W-What about these?” His face scrunches up as he winces. Not from disgust but from something else that sends a warm flutter to my heart. “I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have—”

I grab his hand before he can take them away, “It’s fine Darlin‘. You can ask me anythin’.”

“O-Okay,” He nods and places them back on my skin, making me shiver again as his fingers glide over my shoulder and down onto the large burn scar. “How did you get these?”

“Well…it’s also from when I was servin’ in the military in my final years and it’s actually the reason why I left. My squad was ambushed while on patrol and a grenade was thrown at us. I blocked my squadmates from the bulk of the blast but thank god it was far enough to not tear me up completely and my gear took most of the damage. I did have to spend half a month on my stomach, recovering from the burns of the explosion and the gashes from the shrapnel.”

“You are brave,” He softly says and offers me a smile. “There aren’t many who would potentially throw away their lives for others.”

“Rescue those who are being taken away to death; hold back those who are stumbling to the slaughter.” I recite as I catch the boy staring at my lips. “I-I have a feeling you would do the same.”

“I would…”

His green eyes are shining with flecks of hazel in them as they snap from my lips. Locking our gazes together add significant weight to his next words as does the closeness of our position. Of him hunching over with his curls grazing my face and one arm wrapped around my waist while the other found its way to rest a hand on my chest, is not lost on me. It somehow makes this moment even more intimate and ethereal.

Somewhat like a silent confession.

“…but not if I have someone to live for.”

# …

The noise of pencils scratching paper, feet scuffing against the tile floor, the squeaking of leather rolling chairs, and the chatter mix with the ringing of phones in the background put me at ease. At first blush, these crass sounds may not be ones that some would call comforting. However, to me, they might as well be whale calls or whatever people listen to relax and get their bearings. Music? Yes, music. These sounds are like music to my ears since they remind me that I’m at work and fulfilling my purpose.

However, as much as it relaxes me and tunes in my focus, I soon find myself slumping back into my chair as I anxiously tap my pencil against the stack of files on my desk. It’s been three days. Three days of me sitting on my ass and filling out paperwork. I’m so fucking bored at this point I’m reverting to old high school antics to release my built-up energy.

Of course, I’ve finished everything on the first day. The first half to be more specific, and before my lunch break. I’ve wanted to keep busy as long as possible with my work but that boy just keeps on invading my thoughts. Taking solace that he would only come to me after work was foolish.

It, my job, usually gets my mind off things that take hold of my mind but I guess Curly has so much presence that I was, for a lack of better words, overenthusiastic in my efforts. I’ve done a week’s worth of backlogged paperwork on my cases that day. I’m so desperate to keep busy that I even printed new forms for ones due in a week to fill out all over again.

But those words…

_“Someone to live for.”_

Those four words…

_“Someone to live for.”_

They have me dwelling on thoughts that for so long I push away to the depths of my mind. Thoughts that make me realize how lonely I truly am. How I’m missing something—someone—in my life. Someone like—

“Alright, people it looks like our serial murderer just left another body for us.” The Captain announces as she steps out of her office and into the squad room. The other detectives and the beat cops stop what they’re doing as do I, leaving the ringing of the phones as the only sound around us, and we give our attention to the elder woman. “We are barely at the end of the second month of the new year, and we already have a third-pattern killer on our hands who are on their fourth Vic. The mayor, the Chief, and the pain in my ass press have been breathing down my neck for the past twenty-four hours. We need this dirtbag in cuffs yesterday.”

I make to stand but the Captain’s hard glare keeps me in my seat, “Captain—”

“No, Tomlinson. You are on modified until further notice. I can’t put you on any new high profile cases.”

I didn’t try to open my mouth and convince her otherwise. I know I’ve screwed up. I have to show her I can follow the rules so I can get back into her good graces. Also, I have someone on my mind that can hinder my performance. Modified duty actually sounds more appealing in my current state even though I crave to be on the streets again, but as long as I’m working I’ll be fine.

Her hardened eyes soften and she fondly shakes her head. “You may have been the driving force behind the investigation and arrest of the last two serials but not even my best detective is above the rules.” She steps closer to my desk and lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Since you were the lead you still have to prepare for those trials sooner than expected. The media exposure expedited the DA’s hand to try those cases. You have enough on your plate at the moment so there is no need to be handling another serial.” She turns around and places her gaze on a pair of dirty blonde detectives whose names I can’t recall. “Detective Hemmings and Detective Irwin. You two will be the primaries on this case. I expect the best of you two and for this to be solved as soon as possible…”

The soothing white noise of the station drowns out the captain’s words as I swivel around in my chair to face my desk and the stack of busy work I prepared myself. I sigh deeply as the squad room returns to normal and the words of my Captain knocks some sense into me. I push aside the forms and open my desk drawer to pull out my copy of the files for the pattern-two and pattern-one serials of the year.

I flip the manila folder open, setting aside the photos of the crime scene, the evidence, the perp, and of course the victims. As I spread the multicolored papers across my desk, I rummage around the bottom drawer for my notes on the case. Some would say that I need to get my workplace in order but I know exactly where everything is. Sure it’s a mess but it’s an organized mess and it’s mine.

The morning hours pass by before my eyes and soon noon is creeping up on me. I’ve been able to go over all the key facts of the case while making sure the evidence is still in storage. All that’s left for me to do is to ring up the District Attorney and set up a meeting to go over the case and compile a list of witnesses for me to check in with. The typical trial prep but I suspect the Captain will want to send another detective for that last bit.

My hand pauses as I’m about to pick up the landline on my desk when I feel the vibration of my phone goes off. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. Who could be trying to contact me right now? My family knows that I’m not available during working hours. They are the only ones who contact me besides the station…

Dropping the handset back onto the main housing of the black landline, I proceed to dig in my pocket for my flip phone. I hum with curiosity at the small blue LCD on the outside of the device flashing an alert. It’s informing me that I have a new SMS message from an UNKNOWN number.

My brain scrambles away from the clogging work information to search for anything that can shed light on whom I could’ve given my personal cell number. As stated before, only my family and the station have my number. My sisters haven’t texted me since the school year started and mom never texts, she calls.

I basically have no social life as well.

“Niall and Liam,” I mumble to myself as my brain pulls the memory of the loud Irish and the kind Englishman forth. Using my thumb to pry the top half of the phone open, I smile at the message that greets me. A small chuckle parts my mouth as more messages fly in as soon as I’ve finished reading the first.

_Unknown: Hey! I was wondering if you had your lunch break yet?_

_Unknown: it‘s Harry by the way!_

_Harry: I probably should have led with that but oh well :) I bet you thought I was some weirdo stalker or something x_

_Harry: Oh gosh is it weird of me to send a kiss after that sentence? It probably was and I’m sorry o_

_Harry: I’m also sorry for rambling and blowing up your phone with multiple texts_

_Harry: I could’ve just compiled everything into one long one instead of many small ones but that would be a little strange, wouldn’t it? Sending someone a paragraph over text kinda takes the casualness out of this form of communication._

_Harry: …sorry x_

A broad smile cracks my face and I have to force myself to shake it off as I receive a few surprised looks from my coworkers. Though I’m still smiling on the inside at how adorable this kid is and I’ll bet my next paycheck that he is blushing like a madman wherever he’s at. It takes me a minute to type a reply with the dial pad, making me consider getting one of those “Smartphones” but my flip will do fine for now.

_Louis: No I have not had my lunch break yet. Why do you ask? And you are not weird. Just dorky in the best way possible. It’s cute._

_Harry: Thanks for making me blush :) I wanted to know if we can have lunch together? x_

Lunch? With me? Why?

Not that I’m surprised—I mean, not to toot my own horn but, I’m still a strapping man for my age—or that I don’t want to see him again. I really do, but he has had my number this whole time and didn’t even try to contact me before our fortunate run-in on the streets. I can’t help but wonder why and let my insecurities fester.

My insecurities? Jesus, I haven’t worried about how I’ve acted or looked around another guy in such a long time… It’s a bit nerve-racking.

Did I even dress nicely that day? Or on that night? Was I cool and charming? Or am I worrying over nothing?

I shake those thoughts away and focus on Harry, deciding that I’ll just ask the boy in person during lunch if he doesn’t bring up a reason himself. I glance at the clock hanging on the far wall of the squad room. Only half an hour left till my break and well, I guess I’m getting lunch with the boy.

_Louis: I would love to have lunch with you, Darling! I have to wrap up a few things here at work but I’ll be off at one for half an hour. Where would you like to meet?_

_Harry: how about I meet you at the station and we can walk to a cafe nearby? xx_

_Louis: Sound like a plan Darling xxx_

And that is how I find myself anxiously waiting outside the station house with eyes scanning over the crowds of passersby, searching for a certain tall boy and his head of wild chocolate brown curls. Leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest, I’m trying to maintain my calm exterior while on the inside I’m a nervous wreck. I’m debating whether or not I should take off my jean jacket since it’s keeping my body from fidgeting and is causing my insides to warm up like crazy. I’m afraid I just might start sweating through my shirt at any moment and that would be unfortunate.

Immediately I spot him in the crowd as he uses the crosswalk to traverse the street like a good boy. Even from this distance, I can see the rosy tint to his cheeks and the soft smile on his face as he bumps into others only to pause for a moment and say a quick apology. I feel the smile tugging on my lips by the admiration I feel for this boy’s considerate nature. From the look in his eyes, every sorry is genuine and comes from the heart.

Sweating actually doesn’t sound as bad anymore because right now I feel as though I’ll spontaneously combust on the spot from how he just makes my knees weak with his beauty. He looks amazing even if he’s just wearing a plain white shirt. Still dawning oh so tight black skinny jeans that still do wonders for his legs. What really knocks the air out of my lungs like a sucker punch to my seemingly limitless supply of fondness for the boy is the red white and blue flag bandanna on his head. It wraps around his forehead like how he had it at the club but with his shortened hair the curls dangle elegantly from it making him look like a fucking prince with a crown. I can just picture him waiting in the tallest tower to be saved from a dragon-like in those books I read to my little sisters when they were younger.

How I wish that I was his knight in shining armor but mine is worn and beyond repair. Oh, shit, he’s right here in front of me! And he’s talking! “I-I’m sorry what was that Darlin’?”

He opens his mouth and closes it before smiling sheepishly at the ground. The constant pink to his cheeks flourishes into a deeper shade as he clasps his hands behind his back and rubs his ankle with a booted foot. By the grace of God, he keeps his balance for that quick second. “Were you just staring at me?”

“Oh um…” I rack my brain for a believable and suave excuse to my zoning out. Chuckling after I couldn’t make up one for the life of me, I decided that the truth is better than lying and I might get the boy to flush even more. That is a plus in my book. “O-Of course I was! You look rather ravishing Darlin‘. Not my fault I can’t help myself from admirin’ a boy as gorgeous as you.”

His head snaps up and his wide green eyes are literally glowing as they lock with mine, but that could just be my imagination. “Jesus Lou you can’t just say something like that.”

“O-Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—”

“No, no, no!” He places a hand on my bicep and softly squeezes his fingers around the muscle. A bitten lip and soft giggle from him put me at ease as he glances quickly to my lips and back to maintain eye contact. “You are just…so handsome and saying things like that will knock me right out. Don’t laugh because I’m serious! I-I have to pinch myself sometimes because I can’t believe I know someone like you.”

I click my tongue as I push myself off the wall, closing the little distance between us even more, and grin at how he doesn’t back away. “I know how you feel, Darlin’.”

“R-Really?” The hopefulness in his voice is just too much for me to handle and I have to remind myself how to breathe again.

“Yup,” I pop the P as I brush a stray curl behind his ear. “Even though we barely know each other I feel a…connection. Like I can let loose around you and not give a care in the world. Ya know you’ve been a constant in my thoughts.”

He bites his bottom lip again and his hand glides with a feather-like touch to my wrist, “You’re like white noise in my mind. You’re all I think about… We really hit it off didn’t we?”

“I have no doubt anyone would fall for those dimples of yours,” I poke the aforementioned crevices in his cheek and step around him. I look back over my shoulder as I tuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket and arch an arm out for the boy. “Now where is this place you so desperately want to show me? I would like to spend as much time as I can with you and they better have awesome tea or I swear I’ll knock a fella out.”

He barks out a laugh and links his arm with mine as we start our walk. “Yeah, we better get going before my legs give out from your charm.”

“Oh my dear Harold, you have yet to see the entirety of my charm. There are still so many things my tongue has left to show you… Not that way you dirty boy!”

# …

The walk to the place is uneventful but nice nonetheless. It feels good having Harry by my side and leaning his head on my shoulder. He is taller by a few inches so it’s a tad awkward and takes some effort. However, he has the uncanny ability to make the awkward cute and adorable. I wonder just how he can easily pull something so endearing off?

Anyway, once we arrive I’m somehow both surprised and not surprised at the establishment he has picked for our first lunch outing. I’ve suspected it wasn’t going to be just a simple coffee shop. I knew right away that the boy is quirky in the best way but I didn’t expect this amalgamation of a bakery, bookstore, arcade, and karaoke to greet me.

“So…your accent?” The boy asks as we approach our seats after ordering sandwiches and drinks. I, of course, pay for lunch—much to his protest—and carry our food to the booth he picks out. The best spot in the joint is what he tells me.

Grinning at his flushing face as I slide next to him instead of simply taking a seat across from him. I start laying out the food in front of us, “That your way of askin’ about my heritage?”

“I’m curious okay,” He says as he unwraps his vegan guacamole sandwich. “And for the record, I really like it.”

“I know you do, Darlin‘. If your constant blushin’, whenever I speak, means anythin’.” I take a bite of my meat lovers sub and moan at the burst of flavors in my mouth. This has got to be the best sandwich I’ve ever eaten! Where has this place been hiding? I’ll make sure to write a note about it later.

“Good?” I nod, and he grins with satisfaction before going back on munching. “So? Where are you from? Your accent is obviously not from around here.”

“Ah, you mean how I don’t have that awful valley talk?”

“Yeah, you don’t say _like_ or _um_ after every word!” He laughs and takes a sip from his drink. “I’m from England if you couldn’t guess. A small town called Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. Moved here for my studies with my best mates. I think you’ve met them?”

“Niall and Liam?” He nods as an answer since his mouth is now full of food. “How long have they been together?”

A wide smile spreads across his face, showing off his wonderful dimples and the tips of his two front teeth. He quickly covers his mouth and finishes eating his food before saying; “They’ve been together since the start of secondary. They were _“high school sweethearts”_. They are so in love with each other I’m surprised they haven’t married yet.”

“Yeah, I know the feelin’—”

The clinging thorns caging my chest tighten as my hands curl into fists under the porcelain table. However, the usual sting in my chest are dull and feel more like constricting tendrils. It’s not as intense but still, it fills me with apprehension as the thought that I was about to tell this boy, who I barely know, about him. It frightens me to the very core.

_Why?_

Because…because if I’m already this comfortable around him, to be able to talk about my pain so carelessly, then that means—

_You’re afraid to fall again._

Absolutely.

_Then why try to be close to him? Why try to know the boy?_

That’s because…he is special and makes me feel—

_Hope?_

Yes, I-I feel hope again when I’m around him. That familiar feeling that tingles from the soles of my feet to the ends of my hair is always a constant with him. It’s good and surprisingly fills me with strength, but can I rely on another like that again? I don’t think I can survive a second loss like that, be it the eventual breakup or otherwise.

“Hey,” Harry’s tender slow drawl pulls me back from my dark turn of thinking. The genuine concern in his eyes and the comforting hand over mine oh so easily eases the tension from my chest. “Are you okay?”

I sigh and give him a reassuring smile, “Yeah…it’s just something I’m not ready to talk about.”

“I understand.” His long fingers curls around my hand and I feel warm from the gentle squeeze of his touch. “I don’t expect you to tell me anything too personal on our first lunch date. You already trust me enough to talk about those scars but know that I’m never going to pressure you. Okay?”

“Lunch…date? So this is a date?” I grin as his face flushes and he nervously bites his lip.

He struggles to recover from his slip-up and is quick to friend zone me. Of which I have no problem with at the moment. As long as I can be around him. To be honest I don’t know if I’m ready to give myself to another like that again. It’s all or nothing with me, that is who I am, but I’ll take whatever I can get because this boy is special. With him, everything glows like fireworks lighting up the night on the Fourth of July and I have a feeling this is going to be the best lunch break I’ve had in years.

“Hey! You’re not wearing your eyeglasses! How did I not notice that until now?”

“Heh, maybe my wonderful blue eyes were distracting? I’ve been gettin’ compliments ever since I started wearin’ contact lenses. They say my eyes look like deep oceans instead of dull kiddie pools. What do you think?”

“They aren’t wrong, but I’m going to miss those dad glasses.”

“Oh, Harold. I only wear ’em while I’m on the job. Off duty, I’m all daddy glasses.”

“Fuckin’ perfect…Lewis.”

# …

I feel like I’m back to my old self. My younger and true self. The carefree jester who sees the world as a glass half full. Not half-empty like the hardened man I’ve grown into.

My coworkers are noticing this brighter mood as well, even though I’m still on desk duty, I’m actually making a few friends. Detective Hemmings and Irwin are quite nice to talk to and are fun to be around, it’s refreshing. They are quite capable, for being baby detectives, having made great progress with their case in such a short amount of time. I might put in a request with the Captain for me to rotate partners with the two. I haven’t had one in years and I guess it’s about time I change that. Plus I can be a sort of mentor to them since they still have a lot to learn about the job.

Harry likes them too, he told me so after their informal introduction outside the station. One day they’ve followed me outside stating that they were just taking a quick smoke break but I knew they were just curious as to why I’ve been heading out for lunch. Its something I’ve never done before, usually I just order take out or skip lunch entirely to work. I didn’t think that my absence would be noticeable.

After quick hellos, they stroll back into the station with cheeky smiles while mouthing _”Wow”_ behind Harry’s back. I just shake my head at them as I let the boy link his arm with mine. Wow is a perfect word to describe him, along with a few others like dorky, beautiful, smart, and flirty.

Anyway, this past couple of weeks I’m finding that I’m no longer moving through the motions anymore. I’m actually enjoying the workdays and I’m constantly looking forward to my lunch breaks and the weekends. To the time I can spend with a certain curly-haired boy who I’m happy to have even as a friend.

A friend can do me much good. And it is good, almost too good, and I can’t help but start to wonder if I’m just retracing my steps from long ago. Will I end up sad guilt-ridden thing in the end like before? Or is he the one who can remind me how to feel… How to enjoy life to the fullest?

He already does so much for me but I can’t help myself from hoping that we can become something more. More than just really close friends who flirt and are constantly giving soft touches. I’ll understand if he isn’t looking for a relationship or anything long term. Hell, I don’t think I’m even ready to try again, and he is ten years younger than me.

Twenty-One…he is so young and has his whole life to look forward to. I will not hold him back or burden him with my baggage. He is a sweet boy and deserves happiness even if that happiness isn’t with me.

Whatever comes I know that I’ll have to put my faith and hope forth. Hope that the awkward slow-talking boy with green eyes and curls will be with me for the long run. Faith that these lunchtime outings and deep chats I have with him are doing miracles that will last. For the constant prickling of the thorny vines inside my chest is dulling and are overshadowed by blossoming rosebuds.

“Darlin’ Harry…what are you doin’ to me?” My words fade into the solemn emptiness of my house as I cut a few strawberries to add to my bowl of fruit that’s filled with grapes and sliced watermelon. Once I’m finished with the strawberries, I toss the knife into the sink. Hearing it clink with the other dirty dishes, I remind myself that I’ll have to wash them later.

Maybe. It is Sunday so… I’ll get around to it sometime.

I take the bowl with me to the living room and plop down onto the sofa. Turning on the TV, I kick my legs up on the coffee table. As soon as I’ve wiggled into a comfortable position on the cushions and tuned into the channel playing the Rifleman, the ringing of my doorbell echoes throughout my house.

I groan as I set my fruit bowl aside and got up to answer my door. I didn’t know what I’ve expected to be waiting for me behind the slab of oak at such an ungodly hour but the last thing I’ve expected is a stone-faced Harry brushing past me and storming into my house. Bewildered, I close the door and turn on my heel to follow the boy into the living room

He drops on my couch with a pout as he picks up my bowl and starts to hastily eat the fruit. I’m not surprised that he shows up at my door. We’ve had few _“lads night”_ at my place, but the way the air changes in his presence and his body language tells me that something serious is clouding his usual cheery mood.

“Harry…” I carefully say, so I don’t cut right through the tension radiating from him and filling my house. Standing up, I make sure to give him some space as my eyes scan his face only to see red rim eyes, chap lips, and dull green orbs avoiding my gaze. Immediately I’m flooded with concern and the burning desire to comfort and take care of the boy swells within as I sit down next to him. “What’s the matter Darlin’?”

He sighs as his face breaks into a frown, and he places the bowl back onto the coffee table. His eyes are still avoiding mine, but he scoots closer and leans against me. I’m quick to realize what he’s seeking and obviously, I give it to him.

My arm wraps around his waist and I pull him into my side. He curls up with his head resting on my chest and his hands clutching the fabric of my hoodie. We are dressing in similar attire, sweats, and loose-fitting pullovers. While it’s a relaxing outfit for myself on solitary weekends, I’ve learned that Harry is highly expressive with his choice of clothing. That he dresses how he feels and this is not at all an outfit he wears to relax, more like for nights with a tub of ice cream and a rom-com playing in his room.

After a few moments of holding him, he finally looks up into my eyes and apprehension is written all over them as he struggles to say, “I-I…I went on a date.”

My body involuntarily tenses but I’m quick to gain control over myself. However, the small whimper that comes from the boy tells me that it didn’t go unnoticed. “Did he hurt you?”

He shakes his head.

“Was it bad? Did he… Did he take you to Burger King?”

“No.” His soft giggles fill my ears and I grin. Our usual comfort around each other is slowly coming back despite the tension. “It was perfect, to be honest.”

The following laugh from him is one without a drop of humor to it and I’m right back to worry about him. “Then…what’s the matter?”

“Y-You.”

A laugh stutters through my nose as I try to play off the heat flushing my body. I squeeze his shoulder, “W-What do you mean me?”

“Lou…” He shrinks away but then something inside him must’ve snapped. Fiery green eyes lock with mine as he shouts, “Are you really that dense!?” He shoves my arm off and climbs onto my lap with his knees bracketing my waist, straddling me. I yelp at the sudden movement as my hands instinctively find their way to his hips. My mouth opens to question him but his finger on my lip and his pleading eyes make me bite my tongue. “He wasn’t you! Look Lou I… I like you, I like you a lot. Ever since I first laid eyes on you at the club. You were like a knight sent down to save me and once I got to know you I knew it wasn’t just some hero-worshiping thing. I know that I really like you. I like how charming you are, making me feel special with just a few words. Your wittiness is refreshing and fills my whole body with warmth. You are quick to comfort me with sweet words and simple touches whenever I’m feeling down without telling you how much I need it. I like how we were as close as best friends right from the beginning, and I was so afraid to ruin that with my feelings but I can’t keep them buried inside anymore. Not when you are constantly on my mind even while I’m on a date trying to get over my crush on you because I know you’ll only see me as your immature younger friend.”

“I-I…” A moan hitches in my throat as I feel wonderful pressure erupt from the desperate grinding of his ass against my cock. I use my strength and a firm grip on his hips to still his movements as he shakes his head with his eyes casting down to my chest. I can’t think properly with him doing something like that, and I really need to in a crucial moment such as this but I also can’t help myself from craving the friction. Fuck, I can’t help myself from craving him. I gently buck up against him as a moan escapes his plump lips. “I-I like you too Darlin’.”

His head snaps up and the flame shining in his eyes screams at me to let him in. I know that I can because everything—his words, his confession, our little touches—shows that he wants me and…I realize how much I need him more than anything.

“R-Really? You’re not just saying that to you know…to shag me?”

“Of course not Darlin’,” I chuckle as my fingers comb through his hair, and he purrs like a kitten from the touch. He slumps in my arms and curls further onto my lap as if he has used the last of his strength to give his beautiful confession and is now completely tuckered out. In this position, it should be difficult or awkward to cradle his lanky body but somehow it just works, it’s absolutely perfect like so many times before. “I respect you too much to make a move on the same night we confess our feelings to each other. Plus I don’t kiss until after the first date.”

The soft puff of heat from a sigh leaving his lips brushes over my collarbone, “What about our lunches?”

“Ah,” I chuckle as the tips of my fingers graze across the smooth skin of the back of his hand. “So you did lie to me.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course Darlin‘, I remember everythin’ that concerns you. You’re too special for me to forget, my Darlin’ boy.”

“Yours…” He agrees with a loud exhaustive yawn and the brief sexual tension dissipates into a comfortable blanket of hot steam. I angle my head down to see his eyes fluttering closed as his hands start to falter with playing with the string of my hoodie. I smile as his mouth slightly parts and it’s so quiet, so still, I can feel his heartbeat against my chest as it slows down from quick hard thumping to a slow lulling rhythm. A smile curls his lips as he snuggles his head into my shoulder like a newborn pup, “Finally…”

“Yeah,” I roll my eyes as he falls soundly asleep on my lap, “Mine…finally.”

# △▼10k▼△


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis takes Harry on a date but past emotions may bring their budding relationship to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits made on Aug 28th, 2019

# △▼LT▼△

“You don’t think it was too early? Or all of a sudden? Spontaneous that he—we confess our…mutual attraction?” I ask as I shift the gear stick of my vehicle, slowing down to a rumbling stall. My fingers anxiously tap against the steering wheel as I wait at the red light and a stream of cars blurs into the intersection. An endless sea of metal boxes on wheels is the only thing that is separating us, that and the usual nagging voice that is ever-growing inside my head. 

The laughter from Detective Hemmings erupts from my new phone that’s mounted on the dash as his face pops in next to Detective Irwin on the bright screen.

“I’d say you need to be friends for at least three and a half weeks,” Luke holds up three fingers and a bent pinky in front of Ashton’s face to emphasize his statement, “About one month! One! Before dating ever crosses either of your minds—unless of course, it’s love at first sight.”

“Well…” I start to play a quick slideshow in my head trying to get a rough timeline of our time together, “We first met back in February. Then we lost contact for about two weeks before bumpin’ into each other again. We started to hang out every day after that.” I shrug as my eyes return to the road so I can resume driving.

“Wow, so almost two months? It took him two months to barge into your house and beg you to plow him. I would last one whole week before dropping to my knees!”

His crass words make me wince but I smile nonetheless at the underlying compliment and shake my head, “I wouldn’t say that… He just told me he wanted to be mine. Officially.”

“Officially?” Ashton nudges Luke away with a hand and much protesting from the shorter blonde. I hear a commotion and glance over for a second to see Ashton in a different room and I can hear Luke’s muffled pleas in the background. “Sorry about him. I can’t say he isn’t usually like that. Anyway, I knew something was up after we invited you out for drinks. It seemed like something—or someone—was on your mind.”

“Really? I was that obvious?”

“Well considering your usual neutral face had pinched brows and there was this tiniest curl of your lips for a few weeks then a full-on grin after you went out for lunch for the first time in forever,” Ashton shrugs, “I’d definitely say something was up.”

“Gosh,” I chuckle at that simple fact. At how Harry so easily gets under my skin and is quick to shake things up. He broke through the walls I’ve built up over the years like it was nothing. He came walking straight into my heart, taking it like he already owns it and I’ll let him if that’s what he desires. “He is somethin’ else ya know? Makes me laugh, and has me wanting to try new things. Things I’ve convinced myself that I shouldn’t even bother with anymore like openin’ up to others and formin’ proper friendships. Hell, I wouldn’t even be talkin’ to you right now on this confusin’ as heck smartphone if it wasn’t for him.”

“Yeah, we were totally caught off guard when you came in on Monday and asked us for help to set up your phone. Who the heck is Siri and why is she on my God dang telephone!?” He mocks before his playful laughing dies down, and he smiles reassuringly at me. “So what’s the real problem, Louis?”

Those hard Hazel Green eyes combined with the look he is giving left me no room to avoid the question. Neither did another convenient red light. I sigh as my hands drop from the steering wheel and onto my lap. I know the answer as right away but I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not, I’m hoping it is.

“Nothin’ is wrong…and that’s the problem.”

“You’re,” He carefully starts to say as he seems to be trying to decipher something from my face. “Scared?”

Son of a bitch, I really do need to work on masking my emotions. I can’t be such an open book. The job doesn’t allow it and neither do I. “Yeah I-I am.”

“Good.”

“That’s a good thing?”

“Yup,” he nods as he walks back over to the door of the room he is in and I shift my car into neutral as the light turns green. “It means you’re serious about him.”

“I-I—fuck—I am serious about him. He makes me remember the good side of things, the greener pastures. He makes me a better man, the one that I used to be. The one that can make him feel special.” The words tumble out before I can stop them and I hate to admit that it does feel really good to air out the dirty laundry.

“That’s good! Talking can ease your troubles and I’m an excellent listener. Now, don’t go screwing things up with him. He is a nice kid and—” He giggles at the sound of Luke banging his head against the door. “Since things have gotten pretty heavy, I’m gonna let Luke back into the convo before he hurts himself. Wanna leave you all smile and not gloomy when you pick up your boy!”

“Yeah,” I chuckle as the weight on my shoulders got just a bit lighter, “Thanks. I’m glad we could toss the pigskin around for a bit.”

“Of course Louis! We’re friends remember? We can chat whenever you want to.”

“Yeah…friends.”

# …

“Fuck,” is the first thing that pops into my head and the first word that comes out of my mouth as I stand outside Harry’s apartment gawking. The boy in question is standing at the top of his stoop with his best trotting harness on, as they would say, and I’m definitely noticing him.

His hands are clasped behind his back and his goofy dimpled smile is on full display. He is his usual adorable self but that’s obviously not what’s short-circuiting my brain at the moment. It’s the sheer black muscle shirt that clings to his chest, showing off impressive pecs, a small tummy with delicious abs that are bracketed by wonderful love handles, and a pair of mirrored tattoos that highlights his v-line.

My jacket that I keep forgetting to retrieve, on purpose mind you, hugs his torso and the pride in my chest surges up tenfold. Painted on skinny jeans that ride a bit low on his hips make those magical legs look like they can go on for days. He tops the whole ensemble off with a pair of black suede shoes that have charming rainbow laces.

It’s absolutely fucking adorable and I realize from his knowing smirk that this boy is really trying to kill me right now. His dorky giggle rings in my ears like the porch chimes my ma hangs up back at home as he starts his descent and to say that he lacks grace as he approaches is an understatement. He carefully takes two steps at a time with his ever long legs and his sparkling eyes are lock onto his feet. 

His arms are slightly extending outwards like a penguin. I assume so he can keep his balance or for bracing himself if he were to fall which would be a surprise if he didn’t. His face scrunches up with a determination to remain balanced as he sticks the tip of his tongue out in absolute concentration. A habit I’m finding myself fawning over more and more.

Fortunately, with Harry being Harry, he suddenly trips on nothing and tumbles forward on the last step. His feet falling over each other as he lands right into my arms. I let out an _“Oof”_ from the impact to my chest and a chuckle as he slumps defeatedly onto me. Because he is so lanky, his body ends up leaning at an angle sort of like a piece of wood a kid would prop up against a bucket for a makeshift ramp. He is always trying to make himself smaller than me and its quite funny to see his determination.

With his arms around my neck and his dazzling green eyes staring into mine, he mumbles with a blush, “S-Sorry.”

“Nothin’ to be sorry for Darlin’.” I shake my head as I chuckle with maximum fondness, mostly for his sake but not really. One of my hands rests on the small bump of his waist to support him and the other I’m using to fix his hair from the resulting rush of wind of the shortfall. “I like how you always find a way to end up in my arm. Like a bee to honey you are for my big strong guns.”

“Shut up!” He playfully smacks my chest but makes no effort to move away.

Smirking as I wrap my arm around his middle and pull him further against me, his legs buckle and his arms are trapped between our bodies. I’m rewarded with a gasp and flushing dimpled cheeks from him. “You know I expected you to be dressing differently,” I muse as my hand travels up over the curving dip of his back, “Mentally prepared myself for a cute floral shirt or an oversized sweater…even a floral oversized sweater. But this, sexy looks really good on you Darlin’.”

Wait…I wonder what he would look like in a floral sheer shirt?—I can’t think about that right now. The boy needs my full attention and—Gosh I bet he would look ravishing in a pink floral sheer with matching flush to his cheeks. I have to buy him one soon.

Focus Louis!

“Shut up.” He groans as he buries his face into my chest with curls flying everywhere, tickling the tip of my nose. So fucking cute.

“Uh,” I gulp trying to recover from my rather distracting and very vivid imagination or his overall adorableness, “D-Do you want me to carry you to your chariot as a princess deserves?” My voice easily levels out and I easily fall back into my flirty ways. I’m still a bit rusty but his shining eyes tell me it’s working. “Or would you want to ride on my back like a prince would his horse?”

“Fudge,” He adorably moans and I have to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing at his wide-eyed slack jaw face staring up at me. “It’s hard to choose but…I really would love for you to carry me like a princess, please.”

Jesus Christ, “Anythin’ for you my Darlin’.”

# …

I’m wrong to assume that the drive to the restaurant would be uneventful with Harry sitting next to me. He has this uncanny ability to make everyday boring activities into something…more. Something adventurous and mystical.

He points out all his favorite hangouts, from a local bakery to a random tree sprouting out from a sidewalk, and he tells me he’ll bring me to every single one. He also suggests new places he hasn’t been to that we can discover together. Like that one lonely dock on the beach or a secret clearing that he caught sight of while wandering the wooded parks.

“Why don’t we just go exploring one day, Lou? Who knows what special places we can find together? But…anywhere will be special as long as I have you by my side.”

How can I say no to that? To his sparkling emeralds that glance at me with whimsy and unyielding adoration? There is no way José.

As we enter the more affluent area of town, I can feel his playful gaze turn into one of curiosity and confusion. A sharp gasp leaves him as I pull up to a high-class restaurant with a fancy-sounding French name I couldn’t bother myself to learn how to pronounce. The complete shock on his face already makes this the best night I’ve had in years.

“L-Lou you don’t have to splurge on our first date!” He pleads after I’ve opened his door.

I shrug as an answer and lead him to the entrance so I can hand off my keys to the valet. Harry tugs my arm to get my attention again, though he always has it.

“This place looks expensive! I know you don’t make a lot of money—unless you’re a dirty cop? Please tell me you aren’t dealing drugs or taking payoffs. But if you are I would prefer you taking payoffs over drugs. You know…to look the other way for small crimes like jaywalking or prank calls.”

All I can do is chuckle at his adorable rambling and his unique look that’s a cocktail of concern, fear, and slight genuine consideration over the idea. I pull him to the side before we can reach the doors, giving us some privacy as other diners enter the establishment. “Oh, you are absolutely positively too cute for your own good. Ya know that?”

Him pouting only further proves my point but I know he is expecting a real answer—no more teasing—to his ridiculous question.

“No, I’m not a dirty cop little one,” I playfully roll my eyes as my hands start to mindlessly roam across his body, making small adjustments here and there to straighten out his outfit. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed yet. I mean…how can a detective in a city that’ll tax your own legs and arms off own a house such as mine? With complete privacy, yardage, and in a relatively nice neighborhood? You didn’t even comment on the rather nice car I brought out of the garage just for you.”

“I-Its a pickup truck?”

“Hey! It’s a 1947 Hudson pickup. A classic!”

“Um…” He shrugs as his eyes fall back to the disappearing black and white vehicle. “Bit dated innit?”

Regret instantly takes his features and he opens his mouth to speak but before he can get a word out I grab his chin. Pulling his head down I stare deeply into his green orbs. His face is so close I can clearly see the blush flourishing from the bridge of his nose. As it spreads across his cheeks, my other hand instinctively finds its way back to his waist—his love handle to be more specific.

“Would a foreign sports car suffice? A Lamborghini? A Porsche? Or somethin’ more practical? A Range Rover perhaps? I can get one just for you, ya know?”

“A-Are you well off or something?” He stutters out. “Not that money is important to me!” He quickly recovers and glares adorably at my smirk. “I-It’s not, but are you a secret CEO or something? Do you write songs for famous singers? Or—”

“Well…Let’s just say my family business is equestrian in nature—” I can’t help the loud cackling laugh escaping me as he cutely pouts again. He snatches the handkerchief from the breast pocket of my blazer and proceeds to smack me across the face with it which only causes me to barrel over in hysterics. 

Through the happy tears in my eyes, I can see him fighting back his own smile. He tucks the handkerchief back and he is still forcing his pout only with crossed arms this time. As the feeling that if I laugh one more time will implode my throat hits me, I grin at the slightly rosy skin boy. I chuckle and push him along with my hand on his lower back, into the restaurant.

# …

“Am I underdressed? I feel like I’m underdressed. You should’ve told me we were going to a fancy French restaurant. I would’ve worn something better…and less see-through! I have this pink frilly blouse that would’ve been perfect for—”

I just nod along and say _“Yes dear”_ to whatever he is saying as we wait for our food. 

With my chin perched up in the palm of my hand, I’m finding myself ogling again at this wonderful boy sitting across from me. Letting everything else go, I focus only on him and all that he is, and I’m completely charmed by the little quirks that make him a perfect first place blue ribbon pony. The way he speaks so slow with sweet words like rich syrup dripping off a stack of pancakes, or how he shows his bubbling personality with such deftness subtly such as his rainbow shoelaces, rings that litter his fingers, and of course his captivating nail polish. It’s all so intoxicating for me.

His quirks also extend to his mesmerizing unconscious movements. One that stands out and is gracing me at this very moment is when he starts to pinch his bottom lip with his fingers as he rambles on. Oh! And his rambling is also very adorable and I absolutely love it since—

“Lou? Louis!? Hey, are you even listening to me?”

Shaking my head I feel myself flush with embarrassment but I put on a smirk to cover up the feeling of being caught staring. How can I not stare longingly at him? He is such a beautiful creature. “I’m so sorry Darlin’ it’s just that—”

“I look rather ravishing. Not your fault you can’t help yourself from admirin’ a boy as gorgeous as me.” He says with a sigh and a rather impressive emulation of my accent.

A sharp stab of uneasiness enters my chest at the heavy expression that tugs his features into a pessimistic frown. I go to voice my concern but the tension etching across his face stops me and I know. I know that he needs to say whatever he needs to in his own time, I can’t force him.

“I-I—Are you only interested in me because you think I’m attractive?” He anxiously twiddles his fingers as he stares right into my eyes from under a few curls. “I-Is this just physical attraction?”

“What!?” I scoff as I move to intertwine our fingers, but he snatches his hand away and clasps them both under the table, far from my reach. I try my best to not show how much it affects me but the guilty way he is now averting his eyes to the salt and pepper shakers tells me I’m failing miserably. “Harry—Baby, I’m truly sorry I gave off that impression and I’ll say this now: I like you for more than just your looks. It’s the window dressing ya know? It is what drew me in but who you are is what made me stay. You are my best friend Harry. I would never use you just for physical comfort. You are far too special for that.”

A dimpled smile takes over his frowning lips as he places his hand back onto the table, right next to mine. It’s clear to see our fingers twitching against the overwhelming force to touch, to intertwine. I’m managing self-control by my desire of wanting him to make the first move and to show I can walk the talk.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining… It’s just that I’ve caught you many times zoning out whenever I start talking about stuff. Y-Your eyes they sorta gloss over as they roam over my face, my lips, my body.” He touches each place he mentions with a gentle brush of his fingertips before wrapping his arms around his middle. “And the little touches…”

The frown makes a return as he slouches in his seat and I know I have to say something. I have to reassure him and completely dismantle his self-doubts. I’ve had an inkling for some time that he is a bit insecure but I’ve chalked up his blushing as an aftereffect of his endearing cuteness. Now I’m kicking myself over the many times I’ve touched his waist and gotten burning red ears in return from the boy.

“There is no need to be sorry for voicing your concerns, Darlin’. To build a strong relationship there needs to be communication right? Never apologize for that.” His arms release their tight hold on himself as he nods and the delicate brush of his foot upon my ankle draws a smile on the corners of my sad frown. “I need you to look at me, Harry.”

A new kind of blush erupts from his chest and crowds its way up to his cheekbones and flushes the tip of his nose. I raise an eyebrow at this peculiar reaction that is highly welcomed. It somehow makes him look younger and I can’t help the all too familiar warm tug in the pit of my stomach. He made no effort to raise his head and grace me with those beautiful green gems hidden behind a few stray curls as he is seemingly suspended in time. I believe it is related to the same reason behind my sudden burst of desire.

Jumping from my side of the circular booth, I glide over to take the small space next to him. My arm easily encasing him in a loving hold. I grasp his chin and tilt his head up so I can finally see his eyes again. “Howdy.”

“Hi.” He giggles.

“Tell me what’s the matter Darlin’.”

“I-I…” His reluctance does not reassure me one bit, but he manages to maintain eye contact. That alone fills my heart with butterflies—Jesus I’m so fucking whipped and I’m not even gonna try denying it. “Look, I know I have a pretty face and charming personality and I know that looks aren’t everything,” He huffs. “I just don’t really like the shape of my body.”

I raise an eyebrow as my gaze falls from his evergreens to scan for any imperfections he’s speaking of. All I see sitting next to me is perfection. “What are you talkin’ about? You are the pinnacle of beauty. A truly handsome boy.”

“To you maybe…” He shrugs and moves to cover himself up. I purse my lips and take a chance before doubting myself. I drop my hand from his chin and to his arms, keeping him from obstructing my view. The sheepish and appreciative grin I receive makes the risk well worth it. “Others don’t like how I’m lanky and so damn clumsy. And I-I…I hate it. I know it’s a strong word but I do. I hate that I still have my baby fat, especially around my belly, it makes me look pudgy. I hate that I’m tall. I’ve always liked being smaller when I was younger but now…I’m a giant.”

My face softens at the boy’s confiding and I know I should not—will not—let his trust go to waste. He deserves all the praise and all the reassurance he can get because he is special. No matter what anyone says and I’ll make sure he knows it till we are six feet under, together. “Don’t listen to what others say. They are so dumb they could throw themselves on the ground and miss if they say you are anything other than gorgeous. I think you are perfect Darlin’ and shouldn’t my opinion matter the most to you? Since we are boyfriends now?”

“Boyfriends…” He whispers the word as if it were a mythical concept ever out of his reach. “I—Of course I value your opinion the most! Why do you think I wore this outfit? I’m trying my best to impress you but—Gosh.” He facepalms and his entire face flushes immensely, “We are supposed to have a romantic night and I’m ruining it by complaining about stupid things. Making you worry over nothing.”

I shake my head as a smile takes my face and I capture his hand in mine. Thinking about how complex this boy is—how deep the facets of his being are, how he radiates self-confidence but under it all, he is a precious boy who desires love and appreciation from a special someone—I realize just how similar we are.

“Isn’t this romantic? Showin’ concern over my fella? My most astoundin’ gorgeous sensitive Darlin‘?“ My words ghost over his milky skin as my mouth hovers close to his neck. ”It isn’t stupid. Anythin’ you say will always be important to me. And you aren’t nothin’.”

His sniffles and the brush of his hand under his nose catches my eyes that are preoccupied with closely observing his body language. I’m now realizing that he’s been silently crying but I have no reason to worry at the moment. “H-How did I get so lucky?”

“You’re not the one who should be askin’ such a thing,” I tsk as I tuck a few stray curls behind his ear. “Besides its a ridiculous question.”

My finger wipes away any lingering tears as he finally giggles with a glowing dimpled smile. There he is, my Darling. “Oh?”

“Oh!?” I mock with crossed eyes, the snorting I pull from him is something I definitely can get used to. “Cause I believe fate brought our souls together.”

“That’s…amazing.”

“You’re amazin‘, now I hope you don’t mind me stayin’ right here next to you for the rest of the night. The waiter is comin’ with our meals right now and I don’t want to leave your side.”

“I…would love that, please?”

“Always, my Darlin’.”

# …

We settle into an easy conversation about ourselves; Our career aspirations, Harry wants to be an environmental lawyer—whatever that means—and I’ve already met my goal, but he encourages me to think about promotions and I find myself entertaining the idea of rising through the ranks more seriously. We catch up on his studies and how well the internship is going—he doesn’t really like talking about that stuff since it isn’t fun—before we move onto our families. 

Harry has grown up without a father but his ma and sister did a fine job raising such a sensitive and strong boy. On a Texas ranch, I’ve had to man up at an early age especially with being the only boy among many sisters and also the eldest. Back then my father taught me the hard work of providing and protecting your family while my mother made sure I understand the importance of patience and a gentle hand. Harry says they should be proud and is already planning a week for me to visit them since I haven’t seen the family in years.

A right crime as he says but I left for a reason—a much-needed distance that I know deep down didn’t do a damn thing to ease my guilt—and I easily dismiss the idea with the job as a valid reason and a joke tack on for nonchalance. 

Thankfully he lets it go.

I just… I can’t even look at His sketchbook in the safety of my own home. How can I expect myself to be so close to His final resting place? Maybe with Harry there…I will have the strength to finally make peace.

Maybe…

By the grace of God, our conversation transitions to lighter topics about nothing and everything—easy things that won’t weigh heavy on me. From our hobbies to us guessing each other’s favorite flavors of ice cream. Things I already know but I don’t see myself ever getting bored with his slow drawl that makes his tales of hijinks with his friends endless and those hilariously lame dad jokes. I can tell from his laughter at my own lame old joke and his bright eyes accompanying my boring stories about farming and ranching that it is a mutual feeling.

Needless to say, the food is amazing and I should expect no less from a five-star restaurant but I did have my doubts. With it being French, I didn’t think they would have anything I’d like. I’m a man with a refined taste, a well-oiled routine, that I follow to keep myself grounded with the familiar. Everything I’ve read on the menu is in a strange language and completely new to my limited knowledge of cuisine.

I don’t do new or unfamiliar.

However, I’m finding my adventurous side shining through whenever I’m with Harry. This old rebellious self that I’ve long forgotten is reigniting inside. The new is not so uncomfortable or horrifying, it’s now an addictively refreshing.

“Wow, you sure are right about this Frenchy Beef stew.” I’m praising before I take a small swig of red wine. Not my usual choice of drink but what Harry wants; I’ll happily give. “It’s so fuckin’ good.”

He smiles and quietly sips his own stew that is made of chicken instead of tender beef. His small smile explodes with a honking laugh as I raise my bowl and tilt it up, loudly slurping down the rest of the delicious stew. He playfully kicks my shin and shakes his head before eagerly copying my antics.

“Its called Boeuf Bourguignon,” He says after graciously wiping his mouth with the hand towel resting over his lap. I try not to get too distracted on how I can listen to him speak Frenchy like that all day and night or by his puffy pink lips. It is extremely hard, like other things at the moment. “I knew you would love it. It has bacon after all.”

His smug lined smirk matches my own and I nonchalantly say with a wiggle of my eyebrows; “I would love to taste your own bacon sometimes.”

“Oh?” His flushing cheeks and his shy smile fills me with satisfaction. But then his foot hooks around my ankle as darken evergreens lock with my eyes. “I would love to make you some in the morning. That is if you were to invite me over to yours tonight?”

“You want to come home with me?” I ask. “Y-You know we don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t want to. I just meant that I don’t expect anythin’ from you and we can perhaps watch a movie or somethin’—not that I don’t want to do anythin’ more! I would love to do so much with ya but I’ll understand if you want to wait. I just don’t really want you to feel pressured to do anythin’ or—”

The sudden caress of his plump lips against mine takes me by surprise. So much so that a solid moment passes before I fully realize what’s happening. That Harry Styles, this lovely and wondrous boy, is kissing me right now.

We are locking lips in the middle of a fancy fucking french restaurant. I can already feel eyes on us but I couldn’t care less. I’m finally kissing Harry, more like he is kissing me and I feel the passion behind it waning and a frown is brushing against my lips.

Without a second thought, I quickly embrace the intimate connection in full force as my hand tightly grips the patch of curls behind his head. Mewling moans vibrate through my lips, encouraging me to lick into his mouth. He eagerly opens up as the hand that’s been griping my tie pulls me even closer.

The kiss isn’t perfect but it’s the best I’ve had in years. It’s full of desperate sliding of lips and is very sloppy with colliding noses and clanking teeth, the hallmarks of a first-timer. This catches me by surprise, a pleasant surprise. How can a beautiful and kind boy such as him go so long without kissing a single soul?

They are truly missing out.

We continue to swap spit—full-on snogging as the Brits would say—in the middle of the restaurant. He seems to catch on to that fact, flushing to his ears and reluctantly separating from me with darkening wide eyes never leaving my—most likely swollen—lips. I reckon I would’ve kept on kissing him no matter if a thousand people are staring at us and by the obvious outline in his pants, he enjoys it very much.

“I-I want you…” He trails off with a hash bite to his lip and a deep moan in my ear, leaving me burning with desire in my stomach. “Need you.”

Fucking hell. “C-Check please!”

# …

A warning that should’ve been written on Harry like one of those on Cola is that his whimpers are extremely addictive. I want to hear every single variation I can coax from his delicious mouth and I won’t stop until I do. Oh, and those pillow lips are quite addicting too. 

Through the lingering taste of our meals, there is an obvious layer of sweet bubblegum. I wasn’t imagining the pinkish shine to his lips, he’s wearing lip gloss. I don’t know how many times I’ve said this but I’ll gladly say it again; this boy is going to be the death of me.

As soon as I open my door, Harry immediately pushes me against the nearest wall and connects our mouths again. It’s even more desperate than before. A hunger nips and bites as we wrestle for dominance. I, of course, take control, and he is all too eager to hand over the reins to me.

Quickly I flip our positions and push the curly boy up the wall. With a groan, he quickly wraps his endless legs around my waist and hooks his ankles together. I feel his fingers roughly rake through my hair as mine latch onto his perky ass. At my gentle squeeze, I get a breathless moan from him before I engulf it completely as I plunge my tongue back into his mouth. He bends down with curls falling onto my face and matches my passion with his own. 

Breathless, we part and he rests his forehead against mine. His hands drop to my shoulders as I adjust to keep him up on my hips. 

“I didn’t know kissing could feel so good.” He giggles. “I bet I can cum just from your mouth.”

I’m stunned for a moment, completely caught off guard by his vulgarness despite our current situation, but I manage to recover and I repay him with a harsh buck of my hips. “That most definitely can be arranged.”

“Oh?” He moans against my neck as he grinds down matching my own hungry pace.

“Yeah and I’m very talented at other things with my mouth mostly concerning with my tongue. Ya know, besides being a smartass charmer.”

The innocent giggle I receive from him is so out of place considering what we are doing and talking about, but having him smile like that only makes my skin burn with desire. I peel him off the wall and carry him up the stairs to the second floor. His nibbling along my shoulder and constant rutting of his hips are clouding my head and almost makes me drop him to the floor and ravage him on the spot. However, I manage to reach my room and kick open the door, gently laying him down onto my mattress.

“Have you ever been eaten out before?” My fingers start to unbutton his jeans and I somehow manage to peel them off in one swift pull. I hum in approval at the outline of his rather large cock that looks really uncomfortable restrained behind the cloth of his tight black underwear.

“I-I’ve actually never—” He starts to say but his ears are burning and the stutter consuming his words is enough of a sign to tell me that he’s embarrassed. Immediately I stop my hand from palming him and I sit back onto my haunches to give him some space. Though the hurt that is now clouding his eyes screams at me that I’ve made the wrong move. “Crap, I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

Something along the lines of passion and respect burns within me as I realize what’s been right in front of my face this whole time. The instinctive animalistic pull behind every kiss. The shy almost unsure touches and that constant bright pink blush to his cheeks. They are all signs I should’ve picked up on earlier.

Signs that Harry is…a virgin and he wants me. He wants me to be his first. A pretty boy like him should not be one any longer and I’ll show him how good he can truly feel with my tongue. I tell him so and the bright pinking of his cheeks turns to a beautiful red. An accompanying desperate whimper that swiftly puts a hungry smirk back on my face follows suit.

I barely hear his quiet and hesitant whisper but those two words are enough to light a spark filling me with pure desire. Pushing further and further to giving him what he wants. “Please…Daddy.”

A tingle crawls up my spine and I force the impulse of pulling myself out that second and pound him into my mattress. I keep my lusting hunger in check with the thought that this is all about him, and I need to make it as pleasurable and as special as possible for him. But the desire is building up more and more in my stomach, he is igniting a dormant fire in me and I can’t—don’t want to quell it.

“You like that Darlin’?” I say with such tenderness as my hands glide up his smooth legs. With a low growl, I pounce, hooking my arms under his legs and attacking his neck with my mouth. “You want me to be your first? You want me to leave you limping for days? Weeks?” I say in between nibbles of lips and desperate affirmations from the quivering boy. “You want me to mark you? You want others to know you are mine?” My grazing teeth sink into his shoulder and his back arches so hard and fast that I’m almost launched into the fucking air like a rag doll, but I just manage not to test my flying capabilities. “Y-You want me to dominate you? To take care of you? Show you how special you are?”

Desperate whimpers from his open mouth are all I get for a response as I start to rock my hips against him. The outline of my hard-on slots perfectly between his ass cheeks and leaves him moaning into my mouth. As I’m slamming against him at a slow and steady pace, his hands caress my jaw and he pulls me into another passionate messy lip-locking match.

“Please,” He manages to whimper as his fingernails dig into my back. I grit my teeth at the grounding pain. “I-I need you inside… Please fuck me right now—”

Shushing him with a growl, I push myself back to lightly smack his thigh for swearing. A pretty mouth like his shouldn’t say such things. My eyes widen as he moans loudly with the word _“Harder”_ falling from his quivering lips, it’s unexpected and I file it away for later use.

His pleadings, the small noises he makes, and his natural submissiveness are so fucking hot. It’s a godsend that goes straight to my cock. Tightening the straining of the fabric of my jeans.

“No baby, not tonight.” I decide. “For now, you will take my tongue and three of my fingers,” I smirk at his mix of a disappointed whimper and arousing moan. “If you are a good boy I promise you’ll have it real soon. Can you do that Harry? Can you be a good boy for me?”

“Y-Yes Daddy.”

“Alrigthy Darlin’, I’ll take care of you.”

# …

The tips of Harry’s fingers gently skim across my bicep as he stares intently at my face, his eyes tracing over my features until they stop at my mouth. It’s as if he is afraid this is all a dream. As if I would disappear into thin air if he closes them for a second.

I grin, leaning in to peck his lips, feeling his soft smile against the intimate connection. I admire his flushing and sated appearance as I prop my head up with my arm and he cuddles further into my chest. His green orbs trace over the cursive script tattooed on my chest, and he smiles.

“Fate? Is that what it means? That we can’t change the past because it’s destined to happen?”

“More along the lines of Go with the flow, Darlin’.” I hum as he yawns tiredly. “But fate… I like it. Destiny gives a more romantic ring to it hmm?” 

Looking down, I’m graced with the sight of his dimpled shy smile as he nods, curls fanning around his head like a halo. His blushing cheeks dilute with his milky white skin into a hot pink hue. He looks exactly like an angel, the ones I would hear stories about when I was younger.

And he is one. So perfect. So pure.

Well, he is not pure anymore, my tongue took real good care of that.

“My angel,” I whisper so low that it can barely be heard as a whisper as he flips around so that his back is facing me, and he wiggles closer. Happily, I embrace him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him further till he is flushed against my chest. I carefully plant kisses across his shoulder blades and up to his neck. “Goodnight Darlin’, sweet dreams.”

His long fingers intertwine with mine and I can feel he still has that content smile as he says wistfully; “Thank you, Lou…for everything. For waiting. For being all that I could ever hope for…”

“You deserve it all my angel,” I shush as I squeeze his hand and nuzzle my nose into his curls. The sweet smell of his sweat that’s matting his hair and layers his skin fills my senses. It’s pleasantly intoxicating. “Go to sleep Darlin’, you have classes tomorrow remember?”

He lets out a grumpy groan, “Don’t ruin this please.”

“Fine,” I chuckle as I play with the curls that fall over his forehead. “I’ll tell you what—how about I make you breakfast in the mornin‘? So you can start the day happy and with a full stomach?“ I suggest and get a happily tired hum as a reply. ”Alrighty, then Darlin’ I’ll—”

Soft breaths and light snoring that sound more like kitten purrs make me lose my train of thought. The endearing noise fills the silence as my constant grin turns into a full-blown smile. I can feel the heaviness of my eyelids as I desperately fight against the oncoming temptation of sleep so I can look at him for a bit longer. 

However, a single question that bewilders me helps to keep my eyes open and on the boy. How can someone be so adorable post-sex and snore cutely like a pup?

“Only you.”

# …

The morning sunbeams are the first thing I feel against my skin as my eyes flutter open from the most wonderful sleep I’ve had in years. Although I did stay up till three in the morning not getting tired of looking at a certain boy, I still feel well-rested. The next thing I notice with alarm is the empty space in my arms where there should be a curly-headed boy named Harry.

Immediately I haul myself up as I rub the sleep from my eyes. I look towards the slightly ajar door to my bathroom hoping to see the light from it. Only, I’m met with a dark empty room.

Groaning as I pull the blanket off my body, I jump out of my bed and stretch out the kinks in my muscles and bones before pulling on some boxers to leave my room somewhat decently.

Sleep is still clouding my vision, so I slow my sprinting down to a hurried stroll as I start to descend the stairs. Carefully, I took two steps at a time and quickly pad my way over to the kitchen. I’m praying that the boy didn’t wake up earlier than me so he can beat me to cooking breakfast for us. I really wanted to do that because ever since he took my tongue like a champ, I have a burning urge to take care of him.

Shit…how will it feel once we actually have sex? When I take his virginity? My cock will probably pop right off inside him!

I shake those thoughts away as I approach the kitchen and the eerie absence of food making sounds confuses me. No sizzling of a pan on the stove or the clinks of dishes and utensils being set out. My face wrinkles as my suspicions are confirmed when I enter the empty kitchen. I take a quick glance around and notice that there are in fact two plates on the island and an empty pan sits on the stove. A carton of eggs, a box of pancake mix and a roll of cookie dough rest on the counter.

“I knew it.”

The wide smile that entrenches itself into my cheeks falters as a loud crash and a muffled _“fuck”_ echoes through my home. My head snaps so fast to the source of the sound that I get whiplash but the dread that fills me overpowers the pain in my neck. I can barely hear the loud stomping of my heavy feet against my wooden floors as I hastily retrace the familiar path.

The path to my study.

“No, no, no.”

The prickling in my chest that I have celebrated its departure returns tenfold. It scorches my lungs as my eyes land on the shape of Harry crouching down as he tries to pick up shards of broken glass. My gaze snaps to the bare spot on the wall where I’ve recently hanged that picture in one of His frames.

I stand in the doorway with my eyes now casting down to my feet and my hand tightly gripping the door frame. The joints of my fingers ache against the wood as the nails of my other digs deep into my thigh. The pain keeping the storm building inside at bay.

“Leave it…and get out.” I hear the words that are devoid of any emotion fall from my mouth. A numbness floods my senses, filling body like cement, as I hear a fearful whimper. I close myself off, to everything, so that I can keep myself from snapping. Restraining myself from losing complete control and doing something I’ll regret.

“L-Lou?” His voice is close, so close that I can feel his warm breath flowing through my fringe. His bare feet are now in my line of sight, and they are turned even more inwards than before.

“Get your things and go.”

A painful sharp gasp strikes my ears as small droplets of water appears around his toes. From the sounds of sniffling that he is trying to hold back, I realize they are his tears. 

His tears are falling from his beautiful green eyes. 

The fact that I’m making him cry almost takes the gusts of anger swirling inside to a new direction. One of regret, self-loathing, and a thundering instinct to comfort and coddle. “Please.” But I can’t, “Go now,” I can’t let him stay and risk him seeing this side of me. “Harry…please.”

“I-I’m sorry! I know you told me that this room is off-limits. It’s always shut and locked but the door was wide open a-and I—Uh—I-I know it’s not an excuse, but I was just curious! It’s so beautiful in there and I-I didn’t mean to drop the picture! I swear it was an accident! The sonogram just caught me off guard and—”

Towards the end, his words become static to my ears as I’m losing more and more control. I feel something in the center of my brain snap at the mention of that picture and I can’t just stand there anymore. My feet pulls me further inside the room, brushing past the now silent and frozen boy. 

I pay no mind to the tiny cuts on my hands and bare feet as I begin to clean up the mess myself. Nor the sobs that accompany the rushing footsteps climbing up the stairs or the muffled rummaging in my room. Only the quiet click of the door brings me out of my haze and I find myself standing in the middle of my living room.

A ringing fear starts to resonate within me. Fear that I’m alone again. That I will always be alone. It festers and inevitably turns into all to familiar white-hot anger.

Of self-hatred and…guilt.

These emotions flood in and I shatter them.

# …

I have a problem.

Well, a few problems to be frank. But the main issue that is causing the most pain in my ass right now is that when I release stress I tend to go a bit overboard.

It takes a few days for me to get tired of seeing my living room in a disastrous state as if a tornado stopped by for breakfast. I end up spending an entire morning cleaning up the broken wood and shattered glass before I’m finding myself at a random furniture store. It’s all just a distraction, a distraction from an even bigger issue nagging me, but for now, it’s a welcomed distraction.

With a list in one hand, I systematically make my way down the most essential furnishings I need to replace. In minutes, I have vouchers for a lovely red three-seater couch, a classy glass dark wooden framed coffee table, a modest entertainment center for my television—that I still need to purchase a replacement. With everything I need to start rebuilding my living room, I start roaming the store and looking at things that are definitely not on my list.

I come across an L shape sectional loveseat with a low armrest that seems highly unconventional and unnecessary since I already have a sofa. However, I’m already guesstimating on whether I’ll have enough space and picturing a certain boy with curls sprawled out on it and passionately writing away in his leather-bound journal. 

I walk away with a new voucher and a small smile I do not deserve.

I’m finding myself collecting more vouchers for things that I have a feeling he would appreciate. Floral window curtains, small floral pillows for the couches, floral…floral everything because it reminds me of him and gives me comfort far better than when I’m repressing my troubles in a small faraway box. Though I have royally screwed things between us and I have no reason to be shopping for the boy… A man can have hope right?

Hope for forgiveness at least…but I’m not one who deserves it. I do deserve this punishment. Of being forever alone for my mistakes.

# …

I’m…a man of a certain faith and when I see an obvious sign from the universe, I certainly do not ignore it. That is why I don’t turn tail and run away as soon as I spot two familiar faces blocking my path.

One brunette and the other blonde. Both with undeniable fury inscribe over their features.

“Niall, Liam.” I nod, trying my best to remain solemn and somewhat put together even though I’m racked with guilt and sadness. It seems I’ve failed as a flash of concern crosses their vengeful faces. It’s small and unexpected, filling me with confusion since we barely know each other.

The last thing they should be doing is showing me any kind of sympathy. Because I hurt Harry.

“Louis.” Their wrathful unison is a slap across my face.

Surprisingly its Liam who steps forward with blazing eyes and locked jaw showing an intent to give one hell of a scolding or worse. Even more shocking is that its Niall who stops him with a gentle and a calm whisper that snaps Liam back. A hush word later and all anger is knocked out of him. He gives a thankful smile before walking away with a glare aimed my way, leaving Niall and me alone. The blonde drops down with a sigh onto a sofa from a living room display and I follow his lead, plopping down next to him.

“You need to talk to Harry.” He finally says after an excruciating moment of silence. Out of all the things he could’ve said, that is the last thing I expected. I then notice the bags around his tired eyes ever casting downwards and I fight the brotherly urge to comfort him. “He… He’s been cooped up in his room for days. Only goes out for classes and for his part-time job. I don’t even know if he eats or if he even has his internship anymore.”

Hearing this shatters my heart and I feel my chest entangling with guilt. I did this to him. “I’m so—”

“D-Don’t apologize to me.” He interrupts with a sigh and his eyes snap up to mine. Anger, skepticism, and hope whirls in those wild blue as he leans his elbows onto his knees. His lips purse and he nods his head to himself as if he came to a crucial conclusion. “I know he won’t listen to us. He prefers to handle things his own or not at all, no matter if it does more harm than good to his headspace…” As he’s trailing off, a smile surprisingly appears, and he relaxes back into the sofa. “He talks a lot about you ya know? Says he can’t believe an amazing bloke like you would ever return feelings for a lad like him.”

I chuckle and copy his movements with my own fond smile on my face, “I should be the one in disbelief. I’m blessed with a whimsical and caring boy who wants an old man such as myself. One that hasn’t been in a relationship for years.”

“Thirty-one yeah? You don’t look a day over twenty. How’d you do it? It has to be something crazy right? Like, do you only eat avocados? Use ’em avocado face masks every morning?”

“Thanks and I may live in California but I don’t just eat avocados. And who in God’s name would look at an avocado and think that would be perfect for a face mask!?” Hearing his loud laughter considerably eases the tension in the air. However, it is still there and I have a feeling that he is trying to avoid a question he is dying to ask. “I’m guessin’ Harry hasn’t told y’all…what happened after our first date. You guys are very important to him, been with him through thick and thin. You deserve to know—”

He raises a hand with a mischievous smirk, “Spare me the juicy details about your first night together—but I would like a video someday, preferably as soon as possible—and I may be his friend but that doesn’t entitle me to know every single thing that goes on in his life.” Suddenly he grips my shoulder and leans in with eyes narrowed into slits, “That being said, he is a sensitive lad and if you don’t fix this I’ll break your legs.”

A moment beats by before a smirk cracks the angry leprechaun’s glare, and we both start laughing uncontrollably.

“Of course! I don’t want to face your obvious vengeful wrath.”

“Best not! Cause it’s not only me you are gonna face. Liam is one hell of a brawler.” His eyes are sparkling with childlike mischievousness as his loud laughs fill the store. “Oh! You also owe me a week’s worth of food!”

“Do I now?”

“Of course you dolt! For taking care of our wonderful boy and—” He quiets down and whispers the last part. “I do have secret rendezvous with him behind Liam’s back. He really wants to talk, but he is deathly afraid of confrontation so you need to make the first move. Just don’t give up, okay?”

“I… I’ll never. He’s too special.”

“That he is, a special curly-headed lad and you may not think this now but you two are good for each other.”

# …

Unfortunately, it takes more time for me to gather up enough courage to finally go see Harry and try to patch things up between us. Till the end of the week to be precise. It’s going to be a surprise apology since he’s been ignoring my calls and texts, but I understand.

However, after that talk with Niall—also his daily check-ins since then—I know it’s unavoidable, I need to provide closure. If that miraculously means getting back together, becoming bitter friends, or nothing at all; I owe Harry an explanation. A sliver of the truth, resolution for both our sake.

All that I’m lacking is that final push to bring myself to his doorstep and I know I need to do it, but…

There is this underlying pang of dread in my chest at the chance that I’ll be losing him. However, if I don’t make the effort to talk then I’ll be letting him go with bad blood between us. I cannot allow that… Plus I need to bring a gift.

A peace offering of sorts as my ma would recommend for making amends. Hence, why I’m standing outside a Flower shop bakery store place. I can picture curly working here at this unusual establishment if he wasn’t planning on being a lawyer, too busy with his internship…or so I thought.

“Well, I’ll be damned. There is such a thing as a bakery flower shop monster.” I mumble to myself, now I owe that S.O.B. Ashton five bucks. 

Sighing, I wrap my fingers around the handle of the glass door pulling it open and entering the small building. A whirlwind of scents swirls into my nostrils as a bell rings above and the door closes behind me. The colorful sight of a sea of flowers nearly blinds me.

“I’ll be right with you!” A female voice echoes from the counter and through the empty store. 

I assume that the lack of customers is not a reflection on the quality of service since it is lunchtime and who would be buying flowers or pastries at this time of day? I mean it isn’t valentines day, but to me, any day is a good day to buy flowers.

Suddenly an older woman with dark graying hair and bronze skin pops up behind the counter. She beams the all too familiar friendly smile of a mother and beckons me over. Her words are laced with a southern accent like mine but with a Hispanic flourish, “Sorry for the wait! My baker boy is havin’ some man troubles and needed a pep talk.”

“Aren’t we all?” I crack a smile as she laughs and nods her head in agreement. “Um, I would like three red roses and…what would you recommend for an apology bouquet?”

“Depends on what you are apologizin’ for.”

“A…misunderstandin’ and a rather poor handling of the situation on my part.”

She hums and walks around the counter. Her face wrinkles from concentration as she wades through the shop with grace and a clear purpose. Now and then, she plucks a flower from the many pots or pauses before retracing her steps and picking up two or three other flowers she had just passed by.

“So,” She returns and lays out the diverse color of plants on the countertop, the hue mostly focusing on reds and whites. “Ya can go with the tried and true carnations, red for love—obviously—whites for pure love. These colors are basically universal with all flowers but pink. A pink carnation symbolizes sweet love. The kind that says I don’t know how to love without you—”

“I’ll take three pink ones.”

She laughs at my eagerness and I try not to blush as she adds the carnations to the small pile of roses. “Three roses and three carnations? A believer in the magic number?”

“You can say that.”

“While we are talking about numbers,” She giggles as she sifts through the remaining flowers. Her eyes lighting up when she finds the one and holds it up for me to take. “Let’s round it out with lucky number seven, yeah?”

I examine the flower with wide eyes as it spins between my fingers. The stem is a uniquely reddish-brown color that blends into a bright green at the edges. A bowl of large bright hot pink petals encompasses a denser tuft of yellow whites.

It’s absolutely stunning.

“That is a wonderful strain of Peonies I discovered this season, part of the first batch to bloom. These flowers can be used to express compassion, shame, and prosperity. To good health and happy life even with flaws that you can overcome together.”

“It is perfect.” Like him. “I’ll take it.”

With an approving smile, she places the flowers in a simple but fitting green vase that is on the house despite my protests. I nod when she recites the total, not batting an eye as she rings up the bouquet. My gaze drifts off to a door with a handwritten bakery sign hanging off a single bent nail on the wood. It’s off to the back and is obviously the source of sweet scents that have never left my nose.

The woman follows my eyes and cocks her head at the door. “Ask for a cortadillo. My baker boy loves makin’ ’em, and they come out very delicious.” As she hands back my credit card with a receipt wrapped around the plastic, she rounds the counter again with a water pot in hand. “Thank you for shopping with us and I’ll pray that all goes well with you and your loved one.”

I return her thanks in kind as I take the vase full of beautiful flowers and stroll through the bakery door.

A large room with a counter along the right side displays many colorful pastries as tables and chairs are set off to the left with a wall of windows letting in the gray color of the cloudy sky. My feet bring me to the register and I ring the little bell resting on top the stainless steel countertop.

The tapping of the rain against the windows is constant as I wait for the bakery boy. It doesn’t drown out the distant sniffles I hear behind the door that leads to the kitchen. Nor my rushing heartbeat at the familiar mop of curls—despite them being cloaked under a hairnet—that emerges with a tray of cupcakes he’s propping upon his hip as his deep cracking voice calls back a _“Just a minute!”_.

“I’m so sorry for the wait!” His eyes are downcast, focusing on the cupcakes, as he strides to the counter picking up a container of sprinkles and a tube of frosting along the way. “I just need to finish icing these cupcakes and I’ll be right with—”

The clanking of the tray and the thud of pastries follows Harry’s sharp gasp. A swear then leaves his lips that now appear to be tattered and torn from nervous teeth nipping at them. I bite back the desire to scold him for cursing and for biting his lip because that’s my job, but I remind myself that now is most definitely not the time.

“Great now I have to bake another dozen and waste ingredients because I’m so clumsy.” He huffs and tucks a few messy curls back under his hairnet.

A string of low grumbles follows as he ignores my offer to help and he starts to clean up the mess himself. Very slowly I might add and with his emerald eyes very carefully not glancing in my direction. I can’t help but roll my own at his attempt to prolong the inevitable but I shouldn’t judge since I’ve been doing the same. So, I stand quietly by and hold my tongue until he is ready, no matter how long it takes. 

I’ll wait for eternity for him because I shouldn’t let him go.

His awkward cough brings my scattered thoughts to attention. The hairnet is no longer restraining his short curls as he scratches the back of his head. The tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth is almost unnoticeable as his gaze locks onto my hands, or rather what is in my hands.

“A-Are those for me?” His eyes snap up to mine and there is a hopeful eagerness in them. I nod with a small smile and hold the bouquet out for him. With a blush and shaky hands, he takes them. As he sniffs each bud, a happy hum leaves his lips, “They’re beautiful.”

Not as beautiful as you is what I want to say but I bite back the urge to shower him with compliments. I know this token isn’t enough for me to start flirting with him again and now here comes the hard part, “H, I’m so sorry for what happened that mornin’.”

“Lou, you don’t have to do this.” He sets down the vase on the counter but I can’t let him stop me now. It’s best to get this over with and face whatever comes next—“I know it’s my fault, for being a nosy kid and invading your personal space. You definitely should break up with me.”

“No.”

His blush intensifies as he shyly looks down at his twiddling fingers. “No?”

“No, love.” I turn my head away to gaze through the window, the view of the quiet street blurred from the downpour of rain. “What happened is entirely not your fault. I was the one who shut down. Who shut you out and yelled at you to leave and—Jesus Christ—you didn’t deserve that. I should have been…stronger and…attentive, especially after that amazin’ night.”

The warmth of his hand encompasses mine and I turn back to see those dimples that I never thought I would be graced with again. “It was amazing? Y-You…don’t regret it?”

“Of course it was amazin’ Darlin’!” I’m quick to reassure. “You were the most beautiful with my—I mean—you’re the best I’ve had in a long time and I don’t regret a thing.”

“I don’t regret it either.” He moves around the counter and closes the distance between us, somehow managing to do so without letting go of my hand. Though the determination in his eyes make him shine like the fucking sun. “I’m sorry for not answering your calls or texts. It’s just that I’m afraid. I’m afraid to give my trust back to you after that and I’m also deathly afraid to lose you. You are a great lad no matter your flaws and I want to help you because you make me feel so happy. I can tell there is something that’s holding you back from me and I can’t be with you if you won’t share your pain but I can wait for you. Don’t you dare think I can’t handle it or that you can do it alone because you think you have to. Remember that there is the two of us now.”

“I-I know,” I smile, us, “It’s just only been me for the longest time that I’ve forgotten how to let others in until I met you. Believe me that I’ll do anythin’ to earn your trust again, even if that means a friend is all I can be right now. I-I still can’t believe I lost my cool by somethin’ so small as a picture. I didn’t realize how fragile I still am after all these years.”

“Have you tried talking about it? About…them?” His words are cautious as he takes a step back and his hand slips from mine. It breaks my heart and stings more than the long-gone thorns that used to wrap around my chest. Knowing that he now has some fear around me racks my body with guilt. “Y-You can always talk to me? Or…a professional if you prefer?”

He flinches as I grab his hand and pull him towards me. I misjudge the strength needed and he tumbles into my chest. Instinctively, my arms wrap around his waist to hold him up. His blush and breathless gasp pull at my heartstrings.

“I think I would love that. I’ve been needing to talk about them with you and the true importance of that room. Of those pictures… How about I take you out for lunch tomorrow? If you aren’t too busy?”

His stiff body relaxes and he cuddles his curly head closer to my thumping heart. “I would love that, Lou.”

“It’s a date then?”

“I… You know I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Likewise, Darlin’, and I promise to never push you away again.”

“Best not ’cause I’ll always be here for you, no matter what may come between us.”

# …

Outside, the clouds overhead are clearing, showing off a gorgeous blue sky and the brilliant golden sun. It’s as though the day is reflecting what I feel, turning from the brooding morning grey to the colorful flourishing afternoon. A true smile that wrinkles the sides of my eyes graces my face as I turn on my heel to start my walk home.

However, before I can even take a single step, something catches my eye. A woman with panic obviously written all over her face turns down an alleyway and not even a second later a suspicious hooded man follows her. The concern that floods my body tells me to investigate but something else pulls and rumbles in my gut. Something that is a clear warning not to go.

My conscience is swift to remind me that it is my duty to help. No matter if I’m on or off the clock. So without wasting anymore—possibly valuable—time, I jog across the street and into the alley.

The sound of weeping bombards my ears and I search the dirty alleyway for the source of the distressing silent cries for help. Immediately I spot the limping shape of the woman by a dumpster further down. My heart drops realizing that I’m too late to stop whatever has transpired but I push forward.

I slow my pace and stopped at a suitable distance so as not to spook her. “Ma’am?” She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I shuffle closer. “Ma’am? Ma’am are you alri—”

Suddenly arms wrap around me from behind, constraining my own limbs as the woman turns to face me with a wicked smile and a frightening laugh. A flash of silver in her clenched hand launches towards me. The sharp wave of pain erupting from the left side of my chest tears a scream from my mouth as my vision starts to cloud with black spots flooding in from the edges and all strength is sapped from my body.

Crumbling to the ground, my mind swirls with confusion, anger, and a shadowing fear. I roll onto my back and manage to press my hand around the wound where a blade is protruding from my chest. I know it’s no use but I will not just die here in some dirty alley without putting up some kind of fight.

I just need to keep the bleeding down until help comes…if help comes.

I feel hands patting down my pockets but I focus my waning strength to keep the pressure on my chest. As more black starts to take my sight, I can barely make out the shapes of a hooded man and the woman as they run down the alley with my wallet in their hands. Groaning, I try to hold back the blood from filling my mouth but the taste of copper touches my tongue despite my efforts. 

All I can think about at this unfortunate moment as a searing coldness floods my body—numbing the flashes of pain in my chest—are the precious pictures of my lovely sisters, my gentle mother, my noble father—my cherished family—that’s taken away from me.

My eyes shut from the lack of strength I have, I can’t keep them open any longer. In complete darkness, I can see a light waiting for me. A light that is not blinding but warm and green. Bright green emeralds with honey brown speckles and a dimpled smile await me in the dark.

“D-Darlin’…”

Another familiar pair of eyes manifest in the light as a smile spreads across my face and a single thought echoes in my head. It quenches the encroaching fester of fear with golden hope like the last drop of water in a never-ending desert. And I know with all my heart I can let go. 

I can leave knowing that I’ve done all I can in this cruel world. I’m ready to go because… “I won’t be alone.”

The ripples from this solidarity overflow the light and it shows me a glimpse of a possible future. A happy ending with a curly boy holding a child, our child. It’s an ending that is not meant for me anymore.

“L-Lou!”

# △▼12.1K▼△

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was supposed to be published weeks ago but my new job and stuff with my pups took priority. However, I am going to finish this fic. I mean there is just one more part, maybe even two?
> 
> Comment your thoughts and I apologize for the smut bamboozle. I'm saving that good stuff for the last part.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry battles with his emotions as he, Niall, Luke and Ashton wait for Louis’s recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is shorter (half) than the others mostly because it is a filler (sorta... important stuff does happen) but it sets up the next full part. Also because it’s written in Harry’s P.O.V. and I didn’t want to have to switch between perspectives in one part. That can be jarring and not a smooth transition.
> 
> You can consider this chapter a prologue or part 1 of chapter 4.
> 
> Let me know what you think and any mistakes you come across.
> 
> <3

# ♛❁HS❁♛

_Hurt._

_Fragile._

_Broken._

These are the words that are circling my head like sharks out for blood. Waiting, lurking, with their sharp razor-sharp teeth ready to tear me apart as dread pulls me under the waves of agony. More emotions are waiting to take their turn after the chilling water fills my lungs and when the others are through.

_Weak and useless._

I know these thoughts are wrong. That letting them fester in my head will do me no good. They're being fueled by a mixture of emotions from almost having the one I care about so much taken from me.

_Almost._

It's a word that now takes a whole new meaning for me. One of chilling fear and an earth-shattering realization that losing him was only averted because of a rare heart condition. That fact does nothing to soothe my deep frown or my trembling hands as I keep a watch on the strong man who is breathing so lightly, asleep on the white hospital bed.

Hooked up to a machine that fills the quiet white room with a steady beep, he looks so tired and vulnerable. Words that I never thought would cross my mind about the man. The man with pale skin replacing his usual sun-kissed tone and a breathing tube jutting from his mouth.

I curse at the weak whimper that catches in my throat and the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Before I can chastise myself for almost falling apart again, a soft knock at the door startles me. I quickly wipe my eyes and try to regain some composure as I stand up to open the door. Waiting on the other side in the doorway with worried eyes are Louis's colleagues, detectives Irwin and Hemmings. Or Ashton and Luke. Calling them by their surnames seem too formal and kinda rude, especially now after we got to know each other more in the past few days. I consider them potential best mates, though I view most people that way.

“Woah… Harry, you look like shit,” Luke bluntly states before Ashton harshly elbows his side. I wince at witnessing such harshness and for the death glare that Ashton sends the dirty blonde’s way. “Ow! What was that for—Oh! I mean, sorry for your loss?”

“Louis isn't dead yet you twat,” Niall grumbles from behind the two detectives. He brushes past them, but not without sending Luke his own glare, to engulf me in one of his trademark Horan hugs. “Hey Curls, you look amazing! How are you feeling?”

I’m trying my best to ignore the guilt knotting my stomach for somehow not noticing my bubbly Irish mate but I just end up squeezing him more than necessary to make up for it. “I'm doing fine and so is Lou. He still hasn't woken up yet and he didn't have an episode the whole night so that's a good sign.” The nervous laugh I let out to ease the tension that follows is hollow and very awkward. I realize that it did not help one bit as I look down at my hands to avoid their concerned faces after they enter the room. Quickly I change the subject and ask, “Why isn't Liam with you, Ni?”

“Oh, he couldn't make it but you know he would be here if he could,” He sighs as he sits down in the chair next to my mine, the one with Lou’s jacket draped over the backrest and the closest to the hospital bed. Luke and Ashton remain standing silently by on the other side of the room with their piercing eyes watching me. They're making me a bit nervous. “It's just his work and exams have been keeping him away from me.”

“I know how that feels… To be alone.” I mumble to myself, not expecting him to hear it as I sink further into my chair.

However, the pained expression his face shifts to twists my stomach into knots and I know I’ve obviously failed. “Shit, I'm so sorry Harry. I shouldn't be making this about myself but here I am with my hungry loud ass mouth—”

“I appreciate the distraction.”

“—talking about how I'm in a cock-drought when you are…” He trails off as he seems to be processing the quiet words that again, I didn't intend for anyone to hear. Crap...I'm so hopeless. “Harry…you are not hopeless, in fact, you are the most hopeful person I have ever met and I know that you are blaming yourself for what happened. You really need to stop that.”

“He is right, Harry. There was nothing you could do since you were not there to stop it.” Ashton tries to reassure me with his soft tone and smile, but his words only solidify how useless I was—am.

“Yeah, and what would you have done if you were there? It’s not like you could’ve fended off his attackers—” I wrap my arms tightly around myself and drop my head as Luke speaks but the sound of a hand hitting someone’s head stops him mid-sentence. “—Ouch! What the hell Ash—Oh! I mean...you are a really nice guy and I don’t think you could hurt a fly because you are so precious? Like a muscly flower child with an adorable baby face and deer legs for days—” “—What my partner means by his nervous rant to cover his ass; is that you are a good kid and Louis would hate himself if you got hurt over him.” I can see the sincerity in Ashton’s eyes as he takes my shaky hands and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

His words ease my nerves and somehow so does Luke’s funny but heartfelt attempt at being supportive. Even only they splash soothing droplets on the burning coals scorching my heart, I’ll gladly accept their help because they are amazing.

I… I have amazing friends.

“Thank you guys,” I say with a genuine smile while looking directly at their eyes so they believe me and this half-truth, no matter how hard it is for me to lie to them I rather have that guilt than the one for making them worry over nothing. “I appreciate you all for being here for Lou and me. Just having you lads around...it helps. Helps me feel immensely better.”

“We would do anything for you Curls,” Niall pats my back before pulling out a bag of crisps from seemingly out of nowhere. He just shrugs as an answer to my curious stare before munching on the snack. “You deserve the best, always have, and I’ve no doubt you would do the same if any of us were in your place because you are an extraordinary lad.”

“The best!” Ashton and Luke say with smiles on their faces. Knowing how supportive my new mates are causes a blush to spread across my cheeks. However, their expressions turn solemn and I know what’s coming next.

Ashton sighs, “We didn’t only come by for personal reasons…”

“Really!?” I hear Niall scoff as he leans forward in his chair with the fire smoldering in his eyes at the two detectives. “Can’t this wait till...I don’t know—Louis wakes up? Ya know since he would know more?”

“Niall please—”

“It’s fine Harry,” Luke interrupts me and turns his surprisingly calming tone towards Niall who visually gulps as he sits back. “There is never a good time to discuss something like this but Harry was the first one on the scene and we already waited longer than we should to get his statement. It’s best to have an interview within twenty-four hours of the incident but I knew Harry needed time so I held off the Captain as long as I could but she is on our asses like white on rice.”

That pulls a loud laugh out of my best friend but one thing from Luke’s surprisingly sensible and heartfelt speech stood out to me. “You convinced your boss to go against protocol and give me some time?” The way they talk about their Captain gives off the impression that she prefers efficient by the book work.

No compromise with the job...reminds me of Louis.

But why would he do that for me? Risk a reprimand—risk finding whoever is responsible—possibly risk their job for the wellbeing of their friend’s boyfriend? I’m not worth it and—Oh gosh, what am I doing! I could be helping them with the investigation but here I am being inconsiderate and sitting on my arse doing nothing but crying over… Lou would be so disappointed in me.

“WHY!? Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted—” I didn’t mean to shout and they didn’t expect me too, jumping back a step with wide eyes. Quickly I lower my glare to the floor as I try to tame my torrenting emotions. I manage to get my words to come out just above a biting whisper. “S-Sorry. It's just...putting myself first before finding Louis’s attackers seems so...selfish and wrong.”

A hand places itself on my shoulder and my head snaps up to glare confusingly at Luke kneeling in front of me. He smiles as he wipes a tear from my cheek. I’m crying again? “You sound just like Louis,” His fingers give a gentle squeeze as his gaze flickers over to the hospital bed. “He would be proud of you, ya know?”

“What? N-No he—”

“He would.” As his eyes return to mine, I gasp inside at the sympathetic glare I’m met with. “Don’t ever think he would be disappointed in you over something like this. I may not know him too well but I’ll tell you I’m certain from the way he talks about you, that he cares deeply for you. He would understand our decision to give you time to process everything.” He removes his hand from my shoulder, dropping his gaze as he sighs. “With that being said… I shouldn’t have excluded you since it’s ultimately a choice you should’ve made, not me or Ash.”

He is right.

_He is so fucking right._

Louis is an amazing guy, perfect, and I should not assume he would look down on...on my weakness. He would understand why I needed time alone with him and my emotions concerning my inability to do anything to help. He would understand and help me be better.

I know I can be better, _for him._

“Thank you, Luke,” Taking his hand into mine I smile to let him know I understand his words and take them to heart as I rub the remaining tears from my eyes. “N-Now what do you need to know?”

Ashton steps up behind Luke as the shorter blonde stands up and they both return my smile with their own blinding ones. “That was a wonderful surprise, Luke.”

“N-No shit,” Niall quietly mutters and I side-eye him to see a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Thanks, Ash!” Luke says as he wraps an arm around Ashton’s waist. He then aims a smirk at Niall’s way. “You too little Ni.”

“Fuck you,” Niall huffs.

Luke’s smirk only digs deeper into his cheek as a similar one twitches on Ashton’s lips. “I’m fine with that Niall but we will have to discuss this later with Liam.” I have to bite my cheek to keep myself from bursting into a fit of laughter after hearing those unexpected words come from Ashton. “Moving on... What exactly do you recall from that day, Harry? Remember that no detail is too small or not important to mention.”

“O-Of course...what exactly would you like to know?” I ask as I fiddle with my thumbs. Nervously, my gaze flickering over to Luke as they both move closer. Suddenly I can’t help the knot in my chest tightening even more as the thought that I’m surrounded crowds my thoughts.

Luke catches my eye and he nods as if he knows before smiling at Niall, “Why don’t we go get a cup of coffee, my Irish friend?”

“I hate coffee.”

Luke rolls his eyes before he takes Niall’s wrist in his hand and leads him out of the room. I chuckle softly as Niall’s protesting comes to a stop when Luke promises food instead of coffee.

“What was that about?” I find myself asking as Ashton takes Niall’s seat but he scoots it a bit further away. A wave of relief washes over me and I hate it. I hate that I feel better because of the small distance.

He shrugs as he fishes a notepad and pen from inside his suit jacket pocket. Flipping almost halfway through it to an empty page, he settles into a comfortable position to write. The notepad resting on his knee and his soft eyes hovering over me with a friendly smile.

“An interview with law enforcement can be very jarring,” He starts softly explaining, his soothing voice further easing my nerves. “People usually feel more comfortable speaking to one detective.” I hum in understanding and reluctant appreciation that he is right, it does calm me down with just him here. “So let’s start off with when Louis visited you at work. What were you guys talking about?”

“Well, he bought me flowers and apologized for how he acted the morning after we...” I blush as I trail off, recalling the wonderful night I spent with him before things went to hell. “Um—“

Ashton giggles as he shakes his head and scratches out something he wrote, “Apologizing for an argument about the curtains?”

“Y-Yeah, the curtains.” I giggle as he sends me a knowing smile and gestures for me to continue. “We also talked about his past—more about making plans to talk about his past.”

“His past?”

“Uh, I don’t know if he wants me to talk about that.”

”Do you think it's important enough for me to include in the investigation?” He clicks his pen and his eyes start to scan over his notes.

”I don't think so?” I gulp as his gaze snaps up to my face. ”It’s about a previous relationship, I think?”

”So personal?”

I nod, ”Yeah, personal.”

He hums as his eyes glance over to Louis. ”So he came to your shop to discuss your relationship. He didn't mention he was on the job or investigating anything?”

”No? We just talked about us... He was off duty, right?”

”He was.” Is his simple answer as he clicks the pen again and adds something else to his notes.

“Then...” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Why-Why would he take that risk?”

“You know Louis,” He shakes his head with a sigh like he is recalling a fond memory, “Off duty doesn’t mean he isn’t a cop.” He chuckles and flips to a new page, “Should’ve seen the Captain’s face when he took down a child trafficking ring during Christmas. No backup and _off duty_. Armed with just his sidearm—his backup might I add—and his unyielding courage.”

“Wow,” I mumble in awe as my eyes drift back over to Louis.

My chest lights aflame with a prideful spark and I can’t help but fond over my man. Even with him looking so fragile in that dreadful hospital bed, with the last orange light of the day washing over him from the window, he still gives off the aura of a strong slumbering man. The soft smoldering expression on his face and the hospital gown that doesn’t hide the tone muscles underneath adds to that impressive impression.

“I’m so lucky...” I sigh as I feel the tension ease away from my bones, “How did I end up with a lad so—“

“—Hot?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle along with Ashton but as quick as it was to take my mind off my worries they came swarming back like stinging bees with a new question pounding against my skull. Why wasn’t he armed? _You know why._ “I thought law enforcement could carry their gun when they are off duty?”

“Yes and no.” Ashton nods his head side to side as he closes his notepad. “Some states and cities don’t allow concealed carry, which is what most off duty officers do. Luckily we live in one that does.”

“So why didn’t he have his that day?” Please don’t say it. Please.

His body stiffens. He looks at me with worry in his eyes and a soft smile that comes off more like a grimace. “Well...he—It doesn’t really matter so just forget about it okay?”

“What? No!” He jumps back from my outburst and I try to calm myself down but I need to know. “Just tell me, please?” I beg despite the feeling clawing in the back of my head that I know exactly why he did it.

_For you. That’s why he is in a coma! Because of you._

“Okay,” Ashton sighs as he tucks his notepad and pen into his suit jacket. “Just promise you won’t blame yourself. Louis wouldn’t like it that you are putting all this on your shoulders.” I nod but from the look in his eyes, he doesn’t believe me for a second. “Alright... He told us that you didn’t like guns when we caught him putting it away in his locker even though he always leaves with it. He said he wanted to take you to a gun range someday so you can be more comfortable around them. Being without it he feels less protected but he was willing to give it up if it makes you happy.”

Hearing his words affirming my suspicion only further strangles my chest. Suffocating the fire of anxiety with a whirlwind of dread because it’s really my fault. There is a small warmth of fond for Louis giving something up for me but it is easily overshadowed by my guilt. Overwhelmed, my shoulders start to shudder and I realize that I’m laughing.

Laughing with tears pouring from my eyes.

I hear Ashton’s chair slide across the floor and feel his presence next to me. Kneeling by my chair, his arms are wrapping themselves around my shoulders. I hear him whisper reassurances that it's not my fault as I pathetically choke up from my emotions.

_It is your fault._

I grab onto his dress shirt and I start to sob into his chest with a stream of tears running down my cheeks and sharp breaths. He gently rubs his hands up and down my back as he continues to whisper _lies_ into my ear. “Harry it's not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself. Louis knew what he was doing. Not your fault...”

“I-It is!” I shake my head as I pull myself away from him but his arms keep me in place. “He’s here because of me. I-I changed him...for the worse.”

“Don’t you dare say that Harry,” Luke mutters as he enters the room with a worried Niall behind him. Seeing both their faces twist because of me only makes me cry harder. “You have no idea...”

Ashton pulls away from me to glare at his partner, “Luke!”

“No Ashton,” Niall says as he walks behind my chair, taking Lou’s jacket and draping it over my shoulders. I don’t deserve to wear that anymore or feel the immense comfort it gives me. “He needs to hear this.”

“Just don’t be too hard on him,” He sighs.

“Look at me, Harry.” Lukes hard words slash through my haze of emotions and I have no choice but to raise my eyes up from the floor. Tears are still clouding my vision but it’s clear enough to see that Luke has no anger in his eyes. Just tenderness and care blazing in his gaze. “Did you know Louis only started talking to us after he met you? Years of grunts, nods, and smoldering glares. I almost shit my pants asking if he wanted to come to get drinks with a few of us from work. But after that night...it was like he saw the world in a new light. He was smiling small smiles not ones that he’s obligated to give, he was actually happy and took part in chitchat around the office. He even took Ash and me as his rotating partners after years of not having one! He no longer just lives just for the job anymore, can’t you see that Harry? You are perhaps the best thing that has ever happened to him—“

“T-That’s not true...” I mumble as my brain takes in his words, I took away his edge to survive in his line of work.

Louis has always been so nice and so gentle with me but I had an inkling he was broken underneath. That he covers the cracks in his heart with the strength and conviction to help others over himself. And yet when he indulges his desire to be loved...he almost gets killed.

_Because of you._

“There was someone before me,” I say before Luke can continue his rant on why I’m worth Lou’s love. _All lies_. When silence takes the room I know that my words have their full attention and maybe now they’ll understand. They’ll know I’m not good enough. “He had someone with talent. An artist who could paint and sketch the most beautiful pieces I have ever seen. While I’m just another university student studying to be a boring environmental lawyer. He had someone who was carrying their child and I don’t know if I can even—“ I choke up as my throat constricts making it hard for me to breath but I push on, its the least I can do. “I-I don’t know what happened to them but I do know that I can never live up to a family—His family. Because I made him drop his walls. I made him weak. I almost got him—“

My eyes widen at the sound of rustling sheets from the hospital bed. Immediately I jump from my chair, pushing Luke and Ashton aside as I make my way to Louis. The air is punched from my chest as my heart drops at seeing Louis’s once peaceful face contorted from pain. As he starts to tremble in his sleep I drop to my knees. A layer of sweat quickly coats his skin as his jaw locks around the tube in his mouth. He begins to shake even more as his limbs tense up and his muscles constrict harshly against them.

_Another night terror because of you._

“—Is there anything we can do?”

“No, but the doctors will come in to sedate him if it continues. It’s not a seizure so there is nothing to worry about.”

“We can’t just leave him like that and wait for some old fart to come.”

“I know but...”

Tears well up in my eyes. The feeling of helplessness engulfing me as I kneel at the side of the bed incapable of doing anything but watch. Without thinking, my hand latches onto Louis’s and I fight against the comfort his warmth gives me. His fingers curl around mine for the first time and his face softens. A quiet gasp leaves my mouth as his thrashing slows with his heart monitor until it stops and a steady beep beep beep fills the room.

“He—That never worked as fast before,” I clasp my other hand over the one holding onto Louis’s. His fingers relax as I watch his head lull to the side towards me and I look up to the lads with wide eyes.

“Maybe he sensed your discomfort and wanted to reassure you?” Niall wonders as he rubs his chin.

Luke and Ashton share a strange look. I raise an eyebrow at them smiling at me. “W-What?”

“Nothing,” Ashton shrugs. “I guess we will have to wait for Louis to wake up so he can knock some sense back into you.”

“S-Shut up,” I grumble, squeezing Louis’s hand as the voice quite down in my head.

 

* * *

 

The drive from the hospital to the shop surprisingly takes no time at all. There’s no traffic nor deep conversations along the way. For once I’m glad not socializing because I don’t really want to talk anymore—my throat too sore from crying—and it means less time away from my Louis.

“Weird isn’t it?” I hear Luke ponder as he parks his car along the side of the street. “Haven’t seen more than three cars at once on the road all day… Strange.”

“I guess? I mean it is late and people are usually asleep at this time.” My eyes glance over the clock on the radio. Half-past two in the morning. Have we really been up for that long?

He unbuckles his seatbelt with a soft laugh, “Still doesn’t explain the lack of cars during the day.” He then sighs before turning in his seat to face me with hesitance in his eyes, “So... You sure that the camera at your flower-slash-bakery shop faces the alley and that the owner doesn’t mind you handing the tape over to us?”

“Yeah, I set it up myself and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind after I tell her why we need it. Also, its not on tape. It records digitally and automatically dumps the day’s video to a hard drive.”

He nods as he unlocks the car doors and we both step out. A shiver runs up my spine and through my shoulders as the cool night air coils around me. I’m regretting not bringing one of Lou’s sweaters since it is also pretty cold in the hospital. His leather jacket isn’t as comfortable or warm as one of his big cozy sweaters.

However, I’m not sure if I’m even allowed back in his place. We may have made up before the...stabbing, but that doesn’t mean everything is back to normal especially with this guilt I feel. We still have many things to work on when he wakes up.

_If he wakes up._

“So you set up the security yourself, huh? Louis didn’t mention you were a tech wiz.”

I hear Luke ask over the late-night ambient sounds of the city, mostly cars and the low hum of human activity. I turn around to see him leaning over the roof of his car with his eyebrows raised. Shrugging, I walk to the shop’s doors as I fish out my keys and the sound of his footsteps follow me.

“Nope! I’m only proficient with tech and software that concerns my major, like MacOS and spreadsheet.” I open the door and step aside to let him through. Flashing a small smile as he passes, “You’d be surprised what you can learn on YouTube.”

“I bet,” He chuckles and his eyes scan over the shop smiling over the wide variety of flowers until they land on the bakery door. “Shall we get to it?”

I nod before making a beeline behind the counter and into the back of the store. “Yeah I just need to log into the computer and—” Stopping in my tracks as we enter the small office room hidden behind the kitchen for the bakery, I look back over my shoulder. “Do you have a flash drive?”

He cocks his head to the side with obvious confusion written across his features, “A what-drive?”

“A flash drive,” I chuckle softly and shake my head at him. What kind of detective doesn’t know what a flash drive is? I thought they use them all the time or are they still using paper? How wasteful if they do. “It’s a small rectangular storage device you plug into a computer to move files. If you don’t have one with you then I might have a spare one on my keychain.”

“Oh! You mean a memory stick.”

“Memory stick?” I mumble as I raise a questioning eyebrow.

“Yup, its what I call ‘em. A memory stick.” He shrugs, closing the door to the office behind him. “Usually Ash handles all that tech stuff since I barely know how to use my phone better than Louis. Anyway, I don’t think there will be a problem with using one of yours. I’ll just have to make a note about it when I log the _flash drive_ into evidence. Have to maintain chain of custody and all.”

“Oh,” did he really do air quotes? “Okay let me just...”

Powering on the computer, I sit down onto the chair and use my feet to shuffle closer towards the desk. The login screen greets me and my fingers glide over the keyboard as I enter the password. After waiting a few minutes for Windows to open the desktop, I drag the mouse over to the security videos folder. Doubling clicking on the icon the file explorer pops up and shows the last three months of recordings.

“Wow,” Luke whistles as he leans over my shoulder to get a better look at the screen, watching me click through more folders until I find the file we are looking for. “That’s some organizing there, curls. Got them sorted by month and then by the number of the week. Even the names are detailed.”

“Thanks.” I shyly mumble. After locating the video of Louis’s attack, I card through the many trinkets on my keychain until I’ve found a Superman flash drive Louis got me one weekend.

Before dragging the file over to the device my kitten-like curiosity has me double-clicking on the file instead. Luke remains quiet as the video starts early in the morning. I sigh and press on a key to skip a few hours until I saw the blurry outline of Louis come into frame.

As I gulp I feel Luke’s hand on my shoulder, “Are you sure you want to see this?” Wordlessly I nod without taking my eyes off the screen. I must’ve frozen up from my nerve raking anticipation since Luke is reaching over to tap the space bar. “Okay but please let me know if you can’t handle it.”

The grainy video continues and I curse at how the rain from that day blurs the lens of the camera, making it even harder to see what was happening. However, Louis’s figure is clear to see as he walks up to the edge of the sidewalk. His face is turned towards the alley in the top left corner of the screen as a slender shape of a woman disappears into it then another bulkier hooded figure follows her. Louis takes a step before pausing as if he is contemplating if he should investigate before his head snaps up and his body tenses.

Quickly he dashes across the street and into the alley.

Whatever happens in the alley is out of view and nothing else appears for a few minutes. That’s until I come into view after walking out of the shop. Looking both ways before crossing the street, I stroll down the sidewalk towards the alley on my way to the cop’s station. In my hands a bag filled with fresh muffins and conchas I’ve planned to surprise Louis with, but as I walk past the alley they’re dropped into a puddle as I scream and run out of view.

Luke gives me another gentle squeeze on my shoulder of the day and takes the mouse from my shaking hands. All I can do is watch silently as he rewinds the video up to the point when Louis is pulling up in his car. He then points to the two shapes behind Louis as he steps out.

“Look... Those are the same people he followed into the alley. I’m surprised he didn’t notice them.”

He presses play and we both keep our eyes on the couple—the man with no hood up and just a beanie—as they continue down the street with their gazes locked onto Louis. After he enters the shop, the two strangers linger as they appear to have an argument. They then run to the alley with the man pulling up his hood and the woman messing up her makeup with obvious fake tears.

Both their faces are in clear view as Luke pauses the video. “Son of a bitch...it was a setup.”

“A-A setup? What do you mean? He was targeted?” I frantically ask, my eyes borrowing into his as he looks at me with worry and regret.

“I need you to calm down, Harry.” He tries to soothe me with a display of him breathing slowly. I didn’t even realize I was taking fast shallow breaths. My head becoming light and foggy, but that isn’t important right now. “Harry, I need you to breathe okay? Breathe slowly for—“

The shrill of his phone rings loudly in the small office. We both freeze at the sound. A sound that tells us something has happened back at the hospital. My chest fills with hope as Luke’s eyes shine with it as well.

He gives me some space as he answers his phone and I pull myself together, “Hello, Ash? What happened?”

All I could hear over my pounding heart was static mumbling, nothing I could understand. Sighing, I just focus on my breathing and wait for their conversation to finish.

He has to be awake. Please let him be awake. I need to apologize.

“Yeah?... That’s good!... We will be back right away... Oh, and we got his attackers faces on film. Harry did a really good job for him... Yeah, see ya soon, Babe.”

As pockets his phone I jump up from my seat shaking with anticipation and appreciation. He didn’t have to say I did a good job... Would Louis think I did a good job?

“I don’t know...” Luke’s voice makes me jump and blush in embarrassment from speaking my mind. He shakes his head and grabs my wrist to pull me along as he runs out of the shop. “Why don’t you ask him yourself? You know, since he is awake?”

“He is awake!?”

My Louis is awake!

# ♛❁5.6k❁♛

**Author's Note:**

> Rebloggable Tumblr post for Pt 1 [here](https://horitsu-uriel.tumblr.com/post/182909188324/end-of-the-day-pt-1-of-3-by-horitsu-uriel)


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